A Storm over Blossoms
by Seinaru Kibou no Tenshi
Summary: [COMPLETE!] When Hikari vanishes one day, her friends and family believe the pressure of exams has caused her to run away from home. Then, Takeru starts hearing her voice and seeing her reflection in his mirror....
1. February Blossoms

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A Storm Over Blossoms

Part One

*

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Tsuki ni muragumo, hana ni arashi ~ Japanese proverb

(Clouds over the moon, a storm over blossoms)

*

"You do know you're my hero?"

"It was nothing."

"Nothing? I don't think so. Jyou was just about to make me write out all the kanji I had learnt last year. Twice." 

"Yeah, I am your hero. You can repay me by buying me a pizza later, Hikari." 

". . . With everything on it, except anchovies. I know, Takeru." 

The two friends laughed, before continuing down the tree-edged avenue in companionable silence. Spring had come early to Odaiba that year, and its presence was nowhere more in evidence than the national park. Even though it was only February, the sakura trees were already in blossom. They arched over all the pathways, forming canopies of pink, fragrant flowers. Whenever a wind blew, sweet-scented petals would shake loose and fly across the park, like butterflies. That afternoon, however, the air was still and heavy with the scent of sakura. Their fragrance made Hikari feel strangely light-headed. 

Over her shoulders, she carried a bagful of her books, while her best friend had another load in his backpack. She had spent the entire afternoon at Jyou's house, working through advanced equations and diagramming sentences. Her mother had gone to a private school and, having given up on Taichi, she expected her daughter to carry on the family tradition. So, while her friends had been having fun, Hikari had spent most of her holidays in the National Library in front of a book. Tutorial sessions with Jyou had taken up the rest of them. Privately, Hikari thought it was all a waste of time. She had more chance of catching the moon than passing the entrance exam with a high enough grade to make it into private school. And had said as much to Takeru when he had come to walk her home. 

Giving her friend a sideways glance, Hikari sighed. She envied him. He had no ambitious mother to appease, so he was going to the same junior high as Yamato, Taichi, Sora and Koushirou. She had gone with him the other day to buy his uniform. It had been an odd experience. When he had emerged from the changing room, white hat in his hands and grin on his face, he had been strange in a way that only familiar things and people could be. He had looked so much older in his uniform. For the first time, she had realised that Takeru was a teenager and that he was almost as handsome as his brother. She had also realised that she could quite easily fall in love with him . . . . 

Looking at the boy slouching beside her, face shadowed by his hat, that seemed impossible now. He might have grown taller and skinnier, he might have bought a new hat and traded toys for basketball, but she could still see in him the boy he had been. In many ways, he had not changed at all since their first meeting after Vandemon had been destroyed. He had walked up to her with a disarming smile on his face and a satisfied note in his voice when he had said: "I just _knew_ you'd be my age! You're Taichi's little sister, aren't you? I'm Yamato's little brother! Our brothers are friends now. Do you want to be my friend too?" She smiled at the memory. Yes, Takeru would always just be Takeru to her. His name might have filled up pages in other girl's diaries, but he was simply her best friend. 

Evidently aware of how she was watching him, if not why, Takeru grinned at her and raised his eyes to indicate the trees above them. 

"And what is 'sakura' in English, Ms Yagami?" he demanded in his best imitation of their former teacher's precise, pedantic tones. 

"Wild cherry . . . bl-blossoms," Hikari replied, making a face. Of all her subjects, English was her worst and he knew it. 

"Very good, Ms Yagami," he scooped up a handful of petals from the ground and tossed them at her. They drifted down around her, like fat flakes of snow. They settled on her hair, landed on her schoolbooks, found their way down the front of her dress. Disgustedly, she blew off the one that was balanced on her nose and glared at Takeru. The blond boy was laughing at her, a mischievous gleam in his blue eyes. 

Grinning, she grabbed her own handful of the blossoms and lunged at him, trying to shove them down his shirt. He laughed and dodged out of the way, pulling a hideous face. She stamped her foot impatiently. _Trust my luck. He has to be the captain and star of the basketball team._ _Stupid Takeru_. 

"Try all the fancy footwork you like, Takaishi Takeru. I'm going to get you." 

"You'll have to do better than that if you want to catch me, Yagami Hikari," he called over his shoulder as he began to run down the pathway. Trailing sakura blossoms in her wake, Hikari charged after him.

*

"Too slow, Hikari," Takeru yelled as he vaulted over a low fence and landed lightly on the other side. In front of him, the park sloped down towards the lake. He could see it in the distance, glittering in the sun. It was fringed by reeds, and the brown shapes of ducks drifted lazily on it. A bridge spanned its middle, providing a convenient shortcut, and it was towards that that he ran. He put down his head, stretched out his legs, and let the hill do the remainder of the work. He approached the bridge at a sprint, dodging and weaving around the people who were scattered across the grass. The ducks rose into the air, honking their protest, as he drew near. 

A grin on his face, he paused to check how far behind him Hikari was. He could afford the second or two it would take. Now that he had reached the bridge, there was no chance of her catching up with him. Besides, it was no fun if he were too far ahead. . . . 

His smile faded when he saw her. 

She was bent double on the lawn, clutching her chest and gasping for breath. Her hair was black with sweat and there were spots of pink on her cheeks. He remembered Taichi saying that she had been very sick as a child, and that she had never fully recovered from it. She had often sat out games' classes for that reason. Another memory flashed into his mind: standing guard over a small, pale Hikari while Sora reassured him over and over again that she would be fine as soon as Taichi returned, that they had to protect her until he did. 

__

Idiot. Stupid, stupid idiot, he berated himself as he ran back towards her. 

"Hikari?" he asked, crouching down beside her, "Are you all right? Should I take you to the hospital?" 

Shaking her head, she raised her flushed face to him, and he saw that there was a triumphant expression on it. _Oh no. She wouldn't . . . I didn't . . . _Before he could react, a handful of squashed flowers was shoved firmly down the back of his shirt.

"Gotcha, Takeru!" 

*

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Cultural Notes:

* Japanese children have to take exams to enter private schools. Mind you, I'm South African and had to take an exam to get into my private school, so this might not be as much of a cultural note as you'd think. J 

* A few words on cherry blossoms from Japanese.about.com (http://japanese.about.com/library/weekly/aa031900.htm?terms=sakura) "The cherry blossom is Japan's national flower and synonymous with the word flower. Japanese love the cherry tree not for its juicy red fruit but for its fluffy pink blossoms. 

The cherry blossom is a felicitous symbol. Children start school and graduates start new jobs (Japanese school year starts in April.) April's cherry blossoms suggest a bright future. **Sakura-yu**, a tea-like drink of salted cherry petals, is served at wedding and other auspicious times. 

Yet there is also a dark side. To old-time samurai, there was no greater glory than to die on the battlefield like scattered cherry blossoms. In Kabuki dramas, cherry blossoms often portend a villain's rampage or imminent disaster. Resplendent in full bloom, cherry blossoms seldom last more than a week, and they are easily swept away with one strong wind, a fleeting beauty that suggests purity and transience." 

* As to the proverb with which I began this chapter, it means that life often brings great evil or misfortune at a time of great happiness. 


	2. Storm Breaking

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After three rewrites, I'm still not entirely happy with it, but I can't see any specific way of improving it and it could be another month before I get to it again. So, if you have any comments on how I could improve it, post them in the review and I might do a rewrite of this chapter. 

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A Storm Over Blossoms

Part Two

"I'm home."

The instant Taichi pushed open the door of their apartment, he knew that something was wrong. The apartment was dark and silent, apart from the blue light flickering from the television and the tinny applause of a gameshow audience. He blinked against the gloom. The curtains were all drawn, but no-one had turned on any of the lights. Stranger still, there was no sign of his sister, who should have been back from her tutoring session an hour ago. She was almost always there to greet him when he arrived home. By now, she should have been asking how the soccer match against Tamachi FC went or complaining about yet another tutorial with Jyou. _Has something happened? Did Hikari get sick again and mom take her to the hospital?_

Puzzled and a little frightened, he dropped his togbag in the hallway and looked around for his mother. He found Yagami Hiruko* standing in the dark kitchen, her hands resting on the sink, and frowning out of the window. 

"Mom?" he asked tentatively. 

His mother turned to face him, folding her arms across her chest, "Where is your sister?" 

"If she's not home, Jyou's probably kept her late," he said with a little laugh he did not feel, "When he gets going on thermodynamics, it's hard to get him to stop." 

Shaking her head, "He's just phoned to check if Hikari arrived home safely. She left her tutoring session early. With Takeru." 

Taichi was so relieved that he missed the odd, ugly note in his mother's voice as she said the boy's name. Of the few people he trusted to look after Hikari, Takeru was on the top of the list. He had been there since that day in the Digital World when Hikari had fallen seriously ill and he and Koushirou had had to fetch medicine for her. When he had asked Takeru to stay behind to take care of the girls, he had only been trying to keep him where it was safe, but the kid had taken his duty very seriously. That hadn't changed over the years. He doubted it ever would.

Confidently, "She'll be fine. I know Takeru. He'll look after her."

"I see," Hiruko picked up a gleaming glass and began rubbing hard at it with a dishcloth, even though it needed neither drying nor polishing. Taichi frowned in puzzlement. He had not seen her this agitated since Hikari had been kept overnight in the hospital for observation four years ago. Then, she had been much the same. She had kept walking around the house, picking things up and putting them down, cleaning rooms over and over again, washing dishes that had already been clean. She hadn't been able to stop and sit, she had said, because then she would have had to think. And her thoughts would have been too much to handle. She would have diagnosed her with a fatal disease. She would have had conversations in her head with specialists, who all would have told her the same thing. Ultimately, she would have worked out how to live without her, and she wouldn't do that. He could understand that, but he couldn't understand why she would be as worried now. It wasn't like his sister was in any danger if she was with Takeru. Still, if it would put her mind at rest . . . 

"Do you want me to phone Ms. Takaishi?" he asked, "They might have stopped at his apartment on the way back from Jyou's." 

His mother nodded, "If she's there, tell her to come home immediately." 

Taking the receiver off the wall, Taichi cradled it beneath his chin and checked their noticeboard for the Takaishi's number. He grinned as he found it in his sister's neat handwriting with a little sketch of Patamon beside it. _Hikari is such an idiot at times. _Just as he was about to dial it, however, he heard the sounds of laughter in the corridor outside their apartment. He turned to look at the kitchen window. Through its opaque glass, he could make out a smudge of brown and pink that was probably Hikari. The taller splotch of white, green and blue beside it confirmed his guess. It could only be Takeru and his sister. 

"Here are your books." 

"Thanks. I'll see you tomorrow."

"See you." 

There was the sound of a key turning in the lock, then the door swung open and Hikari entered the apartment. She looked happier than Taichi had seen her look for a long while. She had a smile on her face, and was hugging a bag of books to her chest. Her cheeks were flushed and her forehead was damp with sweat, as if she had been running. She had pink petals in her tousled hair, and there were grass stains on the knees of her jeans.

"I'm home," she called breathlessly. 

Dishcloth and glass still in her hands, Hiruko came to stand in front of her. Her eyes scanned her coolly, taking in every dishevelled detail. If it were possible, her expression became even more disapproving. 

"You're late. Where were you?" 

"Takeru and I took the...." Hikari began, sounding confused. 

"So, you were with your boyfriend when you should have been studying?" 

His sister's cheeks went a darker shade of pink, but Taichi was not sure whether it was from anger or embarrassment, "He's not my boyfriend." 

"What is he, then?" 

"My best friend." 

"Why do you need to sneak out of tutoring sessions to see your best friend?" his mother said triumphantly as if it proved her point.

"Because you won't let me see him or any of my other friends." 

"You can see them once you've finished your exam. You aren't working hard enough for it. You're going to fail, if you don't apply yourself." 

"Not working hard enough for it?" Hikari repeated incredulously, "Mom, that's all I've done for the last month. Every time my friends have wanted to do something with me, I've had to tell them that I couldn't, because I'm studying. I haven't had any fun these holidays. From morning to night, I've sat in front of my books. . . ."

"It's for your own good," Mrs Yagami cut her off. She had spots of bright colour on both cheeks. "If you get into private school, you'll get a better education and be able to make something of yourself." 

"That's your dream, mom," she spat, "I don't want to go to private school. I want to go to school with my brother and all my friends. You want me to go. And just because you haven't done anything with your life doesn't mean that I have to make up for it. Just because you settled down with dad and had us and haven't done anything since doesn't. . . " 

The glass that Hiruko was holding shattered as it fell to the floor. Her hand shot out to slap Hikari's face. The stinging sound seemed to hang in the quiet that followed. His sister clutched her cheek, glaring at her with hate-filled eyes. Through her fingers, he could see the red mark that spread across it, like a blush. His mother stared back her, her arms folded across her chest. 

"Go to your room. Now," she said in a horribly quiet voice, "And take your books. You need to study." 

Shooting a final, venemous look at Hiruko, Hikari stalked off to her room. Her cheek still burned where she had been slapped. Her back was very straight, and her shoulders very stiff. The door slammed shut behind her. Not knowing what to do or say, Taichi turned back to his mother, and was horrified to see that she had tears in her eyes.

"Mom?", he asked, reaching out a hand towards her. 

"You too, Taichi," she snapped, "Go do your homework."

"Yes, mom."

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CONTINUITY NOTES:

* No, Taichi's mother is never named in the series. I gave her the name Hiruko. It's a very common name, meaning child of noon. 

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DISCLAIMER: First things first, the characters belong to Toei. I should mention that Takeru and Hikari are both 13 in this series. I should also say that it's very, very, very slightly inspired by Fushigi Yugi. You'd have noticed it in this part if you've read the FY manga. I say the manga specifically, because Miaka's big fight with her mother isn't there in the anime. You'll barely notice it in future parts, though. Anyway, I had a moment of minor coolness when I realised that the same seiyu did the voice for both Hikari and Miaka, so there is a connection between the two series. Unfortunately, I kept expecting Hikari to cry "TASUKETE, TAMAHOME!" after that revelation. :) 

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	3. Fever Dreams

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A Storm Over Blossoms

Part Three 

Fever Dreams

All alone, Hikari was floating in liquid darkness. 

It seemed as if she had been there for hours, either treading water or simply allowing the tide to carry her onwards. From time to time, memories drifted through her mind, like seaweed borne on the waves. . . . 

She had been lying on her bed, her face pressed in her pillow, tears of angry shame burning in her eyes. Her mother had had no right to say what she had said about her and Takeru, or to forbid her to see any of her friends, just as she had no right to make her take the exams for a school she did not even want to get into. As she had been crying, though, something strange had happened. She had felt icy water dripping on the back of her neck, like a cold finger prodding her to get her attention. In confusion, she had lifted to head to see whether there was a leak. She had gasped in shock. Her walls had become waterfalls - water had seeped through the cracks between them and the ceilings. Her floor, inches deep in water, had become a pond. It had shimmered white-silver in the electric light. Somehow unable to speak or to call out for help, she had drawn her knees up to her chest and watched the water rise and rise and. . . . 

Scrunching her eyes closed, Hikari willed her mind to be empty, and it was. There was no need for thought or for action here. Memory was equally useless. All she had to do was float and be carried by the tide. 

Suddenly, she began to sink, drifting downwards with the same steady swiftness as a pebble dropped into a lake. The waters closed above her head. Arms flailing wildly, kicking her feet with all her strength, she tried to reach the surface and air. But she was too heavy. She carried on sinking, deeper and deeper into the darkness. She opened her mouth to scream, but all that emerged were a stream of brilliant bubbles. One by one, they disappeared into the blackness above her, like dying stars. Desperately, even though she knew that it was no good and that no-one could hear her, she tried to call for help: "Taichi . . . Tailmon . . . TAKERU!" 

* * *

"Hikari?"

With a start, Takaishi Takeru sat up in the sweaty tangle of sheets that his bed had become and looked around his room. Washed of colour by the moonlight, everything was grey and quiet. The only sounds he could hear were those of cars swishing past in the road, and the occasional chirrup of an insect from the apartment's gardens. _It was only a bad _dream, he told himself, glancing at the clock on the table beside his bed. It was just after midnight: the witching hour, if his grandmother's stories were to be believed. 

"While I'm up, I might as well get a drink of milk," he told himself, swinging his feet over the side of his bed and feeling around for his slippers. Putting them on, he jumped up and walked out of his room. The rest of their house was quiet and dark, apart from a single, long stripe of light slanting from the study. Takeru frowned. _That's weird._ _Mom must be working late again. I'll ask her if she wants some tea. _

"Mom, would . . ." the words froze in his mouth as he reached the study. It was impossible, but Hikari was standing there by the window. The light that he had seen was coming from her. She glowed with a soft, golden radiance that illuminated the entire room. It reminded him of the paper lanterns that were strung across some streets during the old festivals. The candles would shine through their paper cases, casting warm, jewel-like light across the street. Hikari managed to glow in the same way, even in the long, white nightdress she was wearing. If it hadn't been for her radiance, he would have sworn she had just climbed out of bed. Suddenly, he noticed the hem of her nightgown was wet, and sand clung to her bare feet. The grains glittered slightly in the light._ Did she go for a midnight walk on the beach before coming here? The beach . . . . _Fear thrilled up and down his neck. _No, not the beach. The Dark Ocean_.

"Help me, Takeru," she whispered, holding out her hands to him, "I can't fight the Deep Ones by myself. You have to help me. You have to . . . " 

Hikari seemed to shimmer, like the rippling of light on water, and he felt his stomach lurch. _I can't let the Dark Ocean take her again. I can't let Dagomon have her. I can't. _Quickly closing the space between them, he gripped her hands tightly with his own. He felt her fingers tighten around them as he did so. Warm and damp, they were too solid to be a dream. 

"Hold on to me. I won't let you go, Hikari. I promise you I won't let you go." 

"It's too late, Takeru," she whispered, "They've already won." 

"No, they haven't. They can't win if you don't let them. You're strong. You can beat them." 

"I'm not strong enough."

To his horror, Hikari began to ripple with the same wet light as before. It seemed quicker and more urgent now. Her image shifted and swayed in front of him, almost like she was at the bottom of a riverbed and he was looking down at her. Her hands slipped out of his, as smoothly and easily as if they had been water themselves. He reached out for her again, tried to grasp her shoulders, but his hands passed straight through her. 

"HIKARI! NO!" 

"Takeru, I'm scared . . . . " Hikari's image was beginning to grow transparent. Through her, he could see the night sky, glistening with frosty stars, above the neon city. The radiance coming from her was starting to fade too. It was as soft and as warm as a nightlight now, but there was nothing comforting about it. 

"HIKARI! HOLD ON!" 

"Takeru, what's wrong?" Natsuko's worried, if sleepy, voice asked from behind him. His mother had obviously heard him shout and come to see what was wrong with him. Relief flooded Takeru, as he whirled to face her. His mother would know what to do. She would know whom to call for help. 

"Hikari . . . You have to call somebody . . . She's vanishing into the Dark Ocean and I tried to help her . . . But my hands went through her and she's still vanishing," he said in anguish. His mother looked down on him with concern in her blue eyes, and he realised that she could not see Hikari. As far as she was concerned, the room was empty and dark. It was like that day in class two years ago, when he had been the only one who had seen what was happening to his friend. No wonder his mother looked worried about him. He had to make her understand somehow. 

"Mom, you have to believe me that Hikari's in danger. . . ." 

Natsuko made a clucking sound with her tongue, feeling his forehead with a cool, practised hand, "You're flushed, and you're definitely too hot. It seems like you have a bit of a fever to me, Takeru. Sometimes, that can make you imagine things that aren't there. I wouldn't worry about Hikari. She'll be fine. You should get back to bed immediately. I'll bring a damp towel and some aspirin." 

"But Hikari . . . ." 

"You can see her when you get better, dear," she put her arm around his shoulder and gently but firmly shepherded him back to his room. He struggled to free himself and get back to Hikari, but he could not break his mother's hold. Desperately, he looked back over his shoulder, but the shaft of light across the hallway had vanished, if it had ever been there. _It couldn't have been real, could it? There's no way Hikari could have been in our study. No way at all. You heard your mom, Takeru. You have a fever. People with fevers see weird things. That's all it was . . . It couldn't have been anything else . . . Could it? _

By the time he was tucked into bed and his mother had returned with a glass of cool water, he was prepared to believe it had all just been a fevered dream. 

* * *

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Acknowledgments:

* The scene where Hikari is floating in the dark water is very much inspired by a passage in chapter 6 of Carmody's "Darkfell: Book One of the Legendsong". Nothing is taken word for word from it, of course, but I had it in mind while I was writing. It's an excellent book, and I highly recommend it. 

Dub Flub Notes:

* Natsuko is what "Nancy Takaishi" is known as in Japan. Totemo kirei na namae desu. That is, it's a really pretty name, meaning Summer Child. 

* For the two people who don't know this, Hikari means light in Japanese. I spent quality time with my Kodansha checking up on what Takeru's name meant, and couldn't reach a conclusion. It would all depend on the kanji, which we have haven't been given. Gomen nasai. 

* PLEASE do yourselves a favour and read:

- the section on His Master's Voice vs Call of Dagomon at: http://www.giantspace.net/gears/pojo.htm

- And a Shadow Over Innsmouth, on which episode 12 is based, at: 

http://www.gizmology.net/lovecraft/works/innsmouth.htm

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They are not required to understand this story, of course, but they are both fascinating reads. They'll more than sort out the dub flubs for you. 


	4. Confessions

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"Steppin' Ouuuuuuuuuuuuut . . ." Takeru's got a gorgeous voice, but that Patamon cannot hold a note. ^.^ Anyway, you know the drill by now. The characters belong to Hongo Akiyoshi. If they belonged to me, Miyako would not have been Hikari's Jogress partner. Consequently, I'm not making a Digidollar. (Sorry, I reuploaded it, because it lost all the italics!)

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A STORM OVER BLOSSOMS

PART 4

CONFESSIONS

"Damn it! Why do people always phone at the wrong time?" Takaishi Natsuko swore as she dropped her thermometer into a glass of boiling water to sterilise it and reached for the telephone. Dr Kido had said to take Takeru's temperature, and, if it were too high, to bring him into his office. She did not want to delay a minute longer than necessary if there were a problem. Wedging the receiver beneath her chin, she stirred the thermometer impatiently around in the water, "Hello? Takaishi residence." 

"Good morning. This is Mrs Yagami." 

Natsuko battled to stifle a groan. Of all the people in Tokyo who could have telephoned her, it had to be Yagami Hiruko. If she were calling again to ask her to keep Takeru away from Hikari so that her daughter could concentrate on her studies, she was going to give her the piece of her mind that she should have given her a long time ago. It was all very well to encourage her to do her best and to try for a private school, but it was wrong to isolate her from her friends. She could not expect Hikari to spend every moment of the day in front of her books, while her friends were enjoying themselves, yet Natsuko doubted even that would have been enough to satisfy Hiruko. 

"How can I help you, Mrs Yagami?" 

"Is Hi . . .Hikari there?" 

There was a slight tremble in the other woman's voice as she said her daughter's name. She sounded as if she were on the verge of tears. _What on earth is going on? _

"I'm afraid not," she replied more gently, "Takeru's sick at the moment. He wouldn't be able to have visitors. Why? Whatever's wrong?"

On the other end of the line, Hiruko began to sob - sharp gasps of breath that seemed torn from her. Natsuko held the phone slightly away from her ear, both embarrassed to hear the other woman break down in tears and worried about what would cause her to lose control of herself in such a way. After a few moments, however, Hiruko composed herself enough to speak: "When I woke up this morning, Hikari was missing from her room. She must have left in the night, but . . . but I don't know where she's gone. I think . . . she's run away from home." 

"No. . . ." Natsuko breathed, unable to believe what she had just heard. In the two years she had known her, she had become almost like a daughter to her. She had never thought that Hikari would run away from home. She had always seemed like such a stable, sensible girl to her. The pressure of exams must have gotten to her, as it did with so many other children. There were always reports of children committing suicide because they were afraid of disappointing their parents. Perhaps Hikari had left home for the same reason. She did not know how her son would handle the news. Takeru would be devestated. She could not tell him until he was completely well, "I'm so sorry. If there's anything I can do . . . ." 

"There is, actually," Hiruko replied, sounding calmer, "You work for a newspaper, right?"

"I'm a freelancer, but I'll make sure to get them to run an article in tomorrow's paper about it," she promised, "And I'll phone my ex-husband, and get him to broadcast it on the station's news. I know he'll be happy to help you." 

"Thank you, Ms Takaishi. I appreciate it," she paused, "I must go and phone my husband now. He's on a business trip in Osaka and will want to know." 

"My pleasure. And I hope you find her." 

"Goodbye."

"Goodbye," she replaced the receiver with a click. 

Her mind a whirl of confusion, Natsuko slowly walked back to Takeru's room. Yagami Hikari was missing, and her son had claimed to have seen her the previous night. He had said she was in danger, that she was vanishing into a dark ocean. She had no idea what that meant, and she doubted that it had any significance to whatever had happened to Hikari. _It's just a coincidence. It's impossible that he could have actually heard or seen Hikari last night. People can't reach across space like that. They can't call other people for help when they're blocks away. It's just impossible. It was just a hallucination brought on by Takeru's fever, wasn't it? _

There was no denying her son was very ill. He had spent most of the previous night tossing and turning, before finally falling asleep in the small hours of the morning. Much to her relief, as she pushed open the door, she saw he was sleeping peacefully now. He seemed completely relaxed. His long legs were sprawled gracelessly across his bed, and his right arm dangled over its side brushing the carpet beside it. His face was still flushed, though, and there was a slight crease in his forehead between his eyes. He looked as young and innocent as the child he had been only a few, short years ago. 

Running a gentle hand through his damp hair, she whispered, "Did you see Hikari last night, Takeru? What has happened to her?" 

* 

Feeling like the lowest of the low, Taichi slowly removed Hikari's diary from the drawer and placed it on the desk in front of her. He knew he had no excuse for what he was about to do, other than desperation. There was nowhere else to look, no-one else to ask. His mother had phoned everyone they knew, had checked all the places Hikari might have gone, and there was no sign of her. It was like she had vanished into thin air. If there was any clue about what had happened to his younger sister, it would be found in her diary. And, at the moment, he did not care if he was invading her privacy, if it would bring her back safely to him. 

"I'm very sorry, Hikari," he whispered, as he picked up one of her hairclips and used it to jimmy the diary's cheap lock. In a matter of seconds, it clicked open under his hand. He had not expected it to be so easy to do, and he wondered if Hikari had known how poorly and flimsily her secrets were protected. Swallowing guiltily, he flipped the book open to a random page and read what she had written:

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. . . There's been big drama in our little group lately. Taichi finally got the courage - yeah, ironic - to tell Sora how he felt about her. It turned out she felt the same way about him, even though she was dating Yamato at the time and was the envy of the school as a result. I wasn't that surprised. I have known Taichi and Sora would end up together since we were all kids in the Digital World. They're soul-mates. (Eew. I did not just write that.) Needless to say, my brother and his new girlfriend are blissfully, pukesomely happy, while Yamato is writing angsty songs. All of the ones Takeru have shown me have . . . um, interesting rhymes for Sora. I think I learnt some new words from them too. Unfortunately, mom would wash my mouth out with soap, if I ever used them! I'm surprised he showed me his brother's songs, though, because Taichi and Sora classifies as one of the things that Takeru and I have agreed never to talk about, if we want to remain friends. (You know, like the time he missed the basket that would have gotten them a win against Tamachi.) I guess . . . 

Tears pricking his eyes, Taichi looked up from her diary. Hikari had a chatty style of writing that made him feel as if he were listening to her speak. While he had been reading the entry, he had kept expecting her to come around the corner, smiling and teasing him about Sora. It was hard to believe that she would not, that she was missing. It was all the more reason to find her. He turned forward a few pages: 

__

. . . So, does this mean I'm falling in love with him? Am I going to spend hours drawing pink hearts on my files and trying endless combinations of my name and his, like Miyako does with Ken? (Mind you, from what I've heard, that habit caught up with her the other day. She was filling in her name on a test, and she wrote Ichijouji Miyako! She didn't even notice it either, until she got her test back and her teacher had asked her if her mother had remarried. Poor Miyako must have been so red!) It doesn't feel like love, though. According to our resident expert on love - yes, the future Mrs Ichijouji - love feels all fizzy and warm and golden. This just feels horrible and weird. Therefore, I can't be in love with Takaishi Takeru. . . . 

Guilt surging back up in him, Taichi dropped the diary onto the desk. No matter how desperate he was, he had no right to pry into it and read his sister's most private thoughts. She would have died of humilation if she knew he had found out how she really felt about Takeru. Even under the circumstances, it hurt that she had not trusted him enough to tell him about it. _What else has Hikari been hiding from me? What other feelings has she been keeping bottled up inside her? Why didn't she come speak to me? It's my fault that Hikari's gone - my fault for not being more observant - _

"IT'S ALL MY FAULT!" he screamed, sweeping his arm angrily across the desk. Her ens and pencils clattered to the ground, making a spill of colour on the floor. Her photos of the other Digidestined stared up at him accusingly. He could almost hear their voices telling him that he had failed, that he had been a terrible brother, that he was responsible for what had happened to Hikari. Paper rustled down around him, black with his sister's neat handwriting. Every character was an accusation. Amongst the other chaos, her diary had fallen face-up, its pages outspread and its spine split. He sunk to his knees when he saw what was written in it, his muscles weak, his nerves trembling. Over and over again, in watery, grey ink, were two kanji: Dark Ocean. 

*

__

Cultural Notes:

* My Classics' lecturer commented that a number of Japanese teenagers commit suicide during exams for that reason. I'd assume he's a reliable source, because he disapproves of cultural hearsay, but I stand open to be corrected. 

* The mystery of Takeru's name is solved! For Takeru, he uses the character for "high mountain" or "peak", which I've always read "take". 

* If you have any questions about bits that seem odd to you, e-mail me or include them in your review and I'll try and address them in these notes.

* What is kanji? Most people know this, I'm sure, but they are the set of ideograms that the Japanese imported from the Chinese language. Many words have a character associated with them, although there are some pure Japanese ones (like grammatical words?) and English imports (kora, terebi etc . . .) that do not. 

Story Notes:

I know this is a weird perspective from which to tell this story, but it worked better than telling it all from Taichi's perspective, which is what I initially tried. At the end, however, I might post all the outtakes from this story for interest's sake, because I have written many of the scenes from different perspectives or in different ways. Anyway, this was a rather dull, bridging part before I can get to the real story. 


	5. Shadow-Flicker

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Digimon belongs to Toei, Saban and Hongo-sama. If it was mine, a) you would be watching this story instead of reading and b) the Dark Ocean storyline would have been continued later in the series. I'm gaining nothing from this, other than the pleasure of writing a conclusion to that plotline. Ultimately, I write because I love doing so and\or because I disliked most of the second half of Digimon 02. Obviously, though, your reviews and comments are greatly appreciated. It's encouraging to see people enjoying what I write. This is a really experimental chapter in some ways, so I am curious to see what you felt about it. I should also caution that it has one, rather mild swearword that's actually in the Japanese version of the show. 

* * *

****

A Storm Over Blossoms

Part 5

Shadow-Flicker

* * *

__

Izukata no

kumoji to kikaba

tazunemashi

tsura hanarekemu

kari ga yukue wo.

~ Shikibu Murasaki (973?-?)

(I yearn to ask what path it followed through the clouds - the wild goose that flew off, leaving the flock. Translation by Lisa Dalby.) 

* * *

__

Shadow-flicker in

still, deep waters

under the quiet

of the mirror-surface,

darkness ripples.

* * *

The deeps are lightless. 

No sun-ray or moonbeam can penetrate the weight of dark water above them. They only skim along the surface, or settle in the silty shallows. They can never reach this place, where only a false phosphorescence glimmers green through the waters, like the eye of the hunter. 

Yet, even here, more ancient shadow than fish, shapes ripple through the darkness and seek for a light. . . . 

* * *

"What do you know about the Dark Ocean?" Taichi demanded, slamming Hikari's diary down on the table in front of Ken. As loud as a firecracker, the noise echoed hollowly in the silence of the library. Taichi felt a dozen pairs of eyes rest on him and narrow in disapproval. He did not care. His little sister was more important than their opinion of him. With an apologetic grimace to the other patrons for the disturbance, Ken bent his head over the book, running a finger down the columns of watery, grey kanji. Taichi could hear him murmuring the words beneath his breath as he did so. When he looked back up at him, his violet eyes were troubled. 

"Why? Do you think Hikari's disappeared there?" 

"I don't know, but this is the last entry in her diary," he leaned against a shelf, folding his arms across his chest, "And, in an earlier one, she said you had been there with her. She said she was surprised about that. So, spill what you know." 

"I'm afraid I don't know much," Ken replied apologetically, "The first time I went there, I was only a child. My brother, Osamu, had just disappeared, and I believed it was all my fault for wishing that he would go away. After weeks of blaming myself, it happened. I ended up in the Dark Ocean. I was walking in the Digital World, when I suddenly found myself in a place I had never been in the past. It was like a beach, but . . . the sand, the sky, the sea, everything was grey. I was terrified, as you can imagine. I turned and ran, but I couldn't find a way out of the place. In the end, I stumbled over a rock and knocked myself unconscious. When I woke up, I was lying in the middle of a sunny field and I wondered if it had all been a nightmare," he paused, a distant expression on his face like a child contemplating a dream, "I've been to the Dark Ocean a couple of times since, but I don't know how I got there, or how I got back from it." 

Taichi let out the breath that he had not known he had been holding. Ken's description of the Dark Ocean matched the little that Hikari had told him about it. She had seemed reluctant to discuss the subject with him, dismissing it with a shiver and a false, little laugh. _And I let her, because I didn't want to know how close I came to losing my sister. I wanted to pretend it had never happened. But I should have made her tell me everything. If I had, I might have been able to help her. . . . _

Clenching his fists, "So, has anyone else gone to the Dark Ocean, apart from you and my sister?" 

"Miyako came with us, but she was more of a spectator. The Dark Ocean had no real pull on her at all. I don't think she'd be any help," Ken steepled his fingers thoughtfully in front of him, his forehead creasing, "And . . . and Takeru said something really odd, when he found out where Hikari had been. He said he had been scared that he had lost her to the World of Darkness _again_. I don't know. Hikari might have told him about the Dark Ocean, but he sounded like he had seen it for himself. He sounded too terrified to have just heard about it." 

"I didn't lose hope . . . . " Taichi repeated in excitement what Hikari had said when he had asked her how she had returned from the Dark Ocean, "Of course! How could I have been so stupid?"

"I beg your pardon?" Ken looked confused. 

"I don't have time to explain," he said, grinning at Ken and snatching up the diary from the table, "I have to get to the Takaishi's apartment." 

* * *

Rising from the cold deeps, the seekers find her washed up on the beach. Impossibly, she is sleeping. Her chest rises and falls, like waves on the shore. Her hair is fanned out around her head, as smooth and dark as kelp, and her nightdress spreads about her like seafoam. On her face, grains of sand glitter. 

And the seekers of the deeps marvel at finding their light in the same way as they might find whalebone, driftwood or a cowrie. . . . 

* * *

"I win again!" Takeru gloated as he spread his cards for Yamato to see. Curled up on one end of the sofa, the younger boy was dressed in his pyjamas, and had a woollen blanket draped loosely around his shoulders. Even though his fever had broken, he still looked very pale and tired. _Typical Takeru, though He's still been ridiculously cheerful all afternoon. And it's got nothing to do with the way he's been whipping my ass at cards. . . . _

Looking at his brother's smiling face, Yamato felt even more rotten about deceiving him. He agreed with his mother that they should not tell him about Hikari until he had recovered. He would be furious at them, of course, but it was for his own good. He had to concentrate on getting better, not worry about her. Not to mention the fact that he would insist on helping them search for her, even if it meant he ended up in hospital. Nonetheless, he had not known how hard it would be to smile and lie to Takeru. He had always prided himself on being honest with his little brother, on there being no secrets between them, so it was difficult to openly deceive him. _You have to protect him. If that means lying to him, so be it. _

"What is the score?" he asked, picking up the cards and reshuffling them. 

"I've got six and you've got . . . uh . . . none," he laughed.

"Yeah. Well, watch me stage the comeback of a lifetime," Yamato said confidently, as he handed the deck to him. Before he could deal them, however, a knock sounded on the apartment door. 

"That's probably Dad. He said he would stop by this afternoon to check up on you. I'll go open for him. Don't deal until I get back," he told Takeru, pushing out his chair and walking towards the door, "And drink some of the soup I made you." 

His little brother made a face, but picked up the thermos and took a little sip from it. Nodding approvingly, Yamato unlocked the door and opened it. His eyes widened slightly when he saw Taichi standing on the doorstep. His friend looked even worse than Takeru. His eyes were red-rimmed and swollen, and his hair was even more of a wild shock than usual. His clothes looked like they were the same ones in which he had slept - a baggy, grey shirt and black tracksuit pants. He was clutching a small book in his hand, and Yamato thought he could make out Hikari's name lettered on the cover. 

"Hey, Taichi," he greeted, as he stepped out of the apartment and pushed the door shut behind him. He did not want Takeru overhearing this conversation. 

"Yamato? What are you doing here?" 

"Mom had a meeting this afternoon with the editor of her newspaper," he explained, "And Takeru's sick, so she didn't want to leave him by himself. I offered to play babysitter. And you, Taichi? Why are you here?" 

In reply, Taichi leafed through the little book and held it out to Yamato. He felt a shiver pass up his spine as he saw what was written in it. The characters for "dark ocean" had been painted over and over again on the pages in watery, grey ink. The kanji seemed to run into each other, like waves on the sea. 

"Hmm, I see," he said, looking back up at his friend, "Takeru mentioned this Dark Ocean to me a couple of years back. He said he had rescued Hikari from some weird creatures that had wanted to take her to their undersea master. He seemed creeped out by the whole experience." 

"That's why I need to see him. I think Hikari might have gone back to the ocean. I asked Ken about it, but he didn't know how he had gotten there or back. I think Takeru might." 

"I'm afraid you're going to have to come back later," Yamato said apologetically, "Takeru's a sick kid at the moment. Mom said we shouldn't tell him about Hikari until he's feeling better." 

"You've got to be joking," Taichi's hands clenched into fists at his side as he took a step towards Yamato, "My sister's probably trapped in another world, and you're worried because Takeru has the sniffles! I'm going to see him, if you want me to or not!"

"Calm down, Ta . . ." he moved to place a hand on his friend's shoulder. 

Furiously, Taichi knocked his arm away and rounded on him, "HIKARI'S GONE AND IT'S ALL MY FAULT! SO, DON'T TELL ME TO CALM DOWN, YAMATO! YOU DON'T HAVE A CLUE WHAT I'M GOING THROUGH!"

"I'm one of the few people who might, Taichi," Yamato forced himself to reply calmly, "Remember when Devimon attacked all of us at that mansion in the Digital World? When we got seperated, I had no idea where Takeru was, whether he was okay or if I'd ever see him in again. I think I went half-mad with guilt and worry. . . " 

He trailed off, as he heard the door creak open behind him. His chest tightening, he turned around to see Takeru leaning against the doorframe. He was trembling, and looked very young and vulnerable in his pyjamas. There was a depth of pain in his clear, blue eyes that he had seen only once in the past, when Angemon had been killed. _Shit._ _He must have heard Taichi shouting_. 

In a voice that sounded nothing like his own, his little brother said, "Hikari is gone?" 

* * *

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DUB FLUB\EXPLANATORY NOTE:

Why doesn't Hikari want to tell Taichi about the Dark Ocean? In the original version, the primary reason she ends up in the Dark Ocean is because she feels she is not as strong or as good as Taichi. If you listen to what Takeru yells at her in the Japanese version, that comes across very strongly. He basically tells her off for feeling she needs to be like her brother, and that she's not as good or as strong as he is. Obviously, she'd be reluctant to share that with Taichi. 

__

CULTURAL NOTE:

This isn't directly related, but the poem at the beginning of the story is one of Murasaki's waka. The waka was an early form of the haiku, having the syllabic form 5,7,5,7,7, and it was the main form of communication among the upper classes in Heian Japan. Murasaki herself is considered the first novelist by many scholars with her stories of the Shining Prince Genji, also called Hikaru. This waka is purportedly written on the death of a friend of hers, from whom she had grown apart when the woman married and moved away with her husband. It's basically a poem about passing through to another world - in this case, the world of Amida's paradise. However, I've used it to represent Taichi's yearning to find the path to the Dark Ocean. The second waka is my own, as you can tell from its lack of any skill or polish. ^.^


	6. Ill Tidings

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Disclaimer: All the characters belong to Toei. If they belonged to me, Yamato would have been in every single episode of 02. In his pink apron. Giving endless harmonica solos. As that was clearly not the case, you can deduce they don't and I am not making any profit from them. All I get from this story is the pleasure of completing a plotline I felt deserved to be completed, and of exploring implications that I felt deserved to explored. I hope you enjoy seeing my take on that too. If so, review and tell me what you liked. If not, review and tell me where it could be improved or if I have missed something vital. I promise I won't be offended, provided it's constructive criticism and not mindless flames like "You suck! Takari sucks! Daikari rocks! Whoo hoo!" Those just save me having to wear sweaters in our winter. ^.~ 

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A STORM OVER BLOSSOMS

CHAPTER 6

ILL TIDINGS

"HIKARI! HIKARI!" 

Blown away by the sea-breeze, Takeru's voice was faint as he ran down the hill that led to the beach. Yamato swore and sprinted after him. His thoughts pounded in counterpart to his feet. _He's still sick. He had a bad fever last night, He should be in bed, not running across Odaiba. I hope Dad only stops by after we get home. I hope Mom doesn't get back from the office. If that happens . . I'm so dead. Mom will kill me._ He felt his stomach lurch as his younger brother suddenly stopped dead in his tracks, doubling over and coughing. _That tears it_! 

"You're coming home and going straight to bed," Yamato told him, placing a firm hand on his shoulder. Takeru shook it off with an angry sound, and ran on towards the edge of the bank where he continued calling for her. Even shouting, his voice was completely drowned by the sighing of the surf against the shore. _This is ridiculous. She wouldn't even hear him if she was standing next to him. _

"Hikari's not here. This isn't going to help her," he remonstrated, coming to stand next to his brother, "But it is going to hurt you." 

Takeru ignored him, his eyes fixed on the ocean in front of him. He had stopped calling out to Hikari now and had a grave look on his face, as if he were concentrating deeply on something. For an instant, Yamato thought he could see the Crest of Hope glowing its shooting star over his brother's heart, but he dismissed it as a trick of the sunlight. 

"Takeru, what the hell are you look-" he trailed off, blinking in disbelief. At the edge of the shore, where the waves lapped whitely against the sand, it looked as if someone had cut a hole in the air. It was slightly shorter than he was and only little wider, but it was still undeniably a hole. On either side of it, blue sea stretched across to the other side of the bay. He could make out tall buildings and trees, misty in the distance. Through it, however, a different landscape shimmered. He could make out a grey ocean, broken only by the curve of an oddly sinister, low reef some distance out to sea. It seemed to be calling him, drawing him into it in a way he did not like and could not understand. 

"I can see it too," he whispered, "Is that the way to the Dark Ocean, Takeru?" 

"I don't know, Yamato. This feels all wrong," he replied, his blue eyes troubled, "It wasn't this way before. Last time, Hikari answered me. She pulled me across to her." 

"I know the Dark Ocean is through that . . . whatever. I know my sister's there. I don't need to know anything else," Taichi said resolutely, scrambling down the bank and running towards the edge of the sea where the hole in the air was. Yamato stifled a sigh, as he followed him. _Taichi hasn't changed a bit, has he? He still leaps before he looks. I guess I can't blame him. Five years ago, I was prepared to search for Takeru in a raging blizzard. Looks like I'm going to have to go along to keep him out of trouble . . . Again. _

"Wait for us here, Takeru," he told his younger brother from the bottom of the bank, "We won't be too long, hopefully." 

"Like heck I will, Yamato!" he flashed back, jumping down to land slightly in front of him. In a parody of his usual athletic grace, he stumbled forward onto his hands and knees when he hit the soft sand. He stayed there for long moments, breathing hoarsely and evidently trying to gather his strength. Undaunted, however, he clambered to his feet and dusted off his trousers. 

Daring his brother to comment, he glanced back over his shoulder, "Let's hurry. If the Dark Ocean is anything like I remember, Hikari won't want to spend a moment longer than necessary there." 

* * *

Walking along the beach with Takeru, Yamato tried to remain calm, as he looked around himself. The Dark Ocean was even worse from close quarters. The grey waters lapped against the grey shore, as pale and cold as despair. They stretched to the horizon, where they blurred with the grey sky. Far out at sea, he could see the long, black reef that barely rose above the water yet seemed the centre of all the darkness. At its end, a high, black monolith rose starkly against the grey sky. As he stared at it, it seemed to beckon him to come to it. It seemed to pull him in with all the slow inevitability of the ocean tide. He turned his head firmly away from it, and shut his mind to its subtle, insistent call. 

In the opposite direction, from which they had just come, the sands gave way to grass and then to pavement, as beach became town. Yamato could not imagine anyone wanting to live in such a bleak places, but there were a row of houses along the shoreline and even a square, brick building that seemed like a factory. Unsurprisingly, however, it looked like the buildings' inhabitants had deserted them a long time ago. The paint was flaking off their walls, and their gambrel roofs sagged. Some houses had collapsed completely with only a wall or a fence to mark where they had once stood. Above the rest of the decay, a church's steeple rose, but there was only a gaping hole where the clock-dial should have been. 

Yet, for all its strangeness, it felt familiar. A long time ago, he had been here and he had almost been drowned in these dark waters . . . . 

"I know this place," he said in sudden recognition. 

His younger brother paused, turning to face him, "What do you mean, Yamato?"

"Do you still remember the dark pit that Sora fell into, Takeru?" he ran a hand through his hair, "Remember I said I'd been in the same place?" 

The other boy nodded, "I remember black tentacles coming out of the ground and wrapping around her legs, then the ground splitting open to swallow her. I was so scared. I didn't know what to do. But what does that have to do with the Dark Ocean?" 

"That place, it was exactly like this," he spread his arms to indicate the landscape around them, "It was like I was sinking into some deep, dark lake. Or like I was being pulled under by some ocean current, I guess. The more I thought about how alone and friendless I was, the deeper I went." 

"Do you think that's why Hikari came here?" he said quietly, "Do you think she felt like she didn't have any friends?"

Glancing over at him, Yamato felt a strange, tight pain constrict his chest. Takeru's shoulders were slouched and he was kicking at the damp sand. And, even though his face was shadowed beneath his hat, his emotions were all too evident from his posture and his words. _He blames himself for this. He thinks it's his fault for not being a better friend, just like Taichi thinks its his fault for not being a better brother._

"No way. Not with a best friend like you," he smiled at his little brother, "Besides, Sora ended up here because she was scared of letting all of us down. You heard her yourself. I think . . . I think the Dark Ocean calls everyone in different ways and for different reasons." 

"I guess so," Takeru straightened, looking towards the low reef where Taichi was standing and calling for Hikari, "Come on. We should help Taichi." 

* * *

His hair and clothes whipped about him by the breeze, Taichi carefully picked his way along the reef towards the monolith. Together with Takeru and Yamato, he had walked the length of the beach, paced the town's overgrown streets and called for his sister until his throat hurt. They had had no success so far, and the reef was the last place he had to look. A sudden, sickening image flashed into his mind of a small, pale Hikari lying broken on the rocks or floating in the waves like a drowned cherry-blossom. He forced it ruthlessly out of his mind. _That isn't going to help you, Taichi. You have to think she's all right. Hikari's a tough kid. She will be all right. _

To distract himself, he stared at the monolith. He had an odd sensation that the tall, black stone was at the heart of the darkness here. It looked like one of the Kaizer's Control Spires, yet Taichi had the impression that it was far more ancient. Cautiously, he approached it. Slick and glistening from the seaspray, its surface was covered with a strange writing that looked almost like hieroglyphics. Here and there, however, pictures had been carved into the black stone. Even with all the Digimon he had seen, the creatures in the carvings looked weird to him. He was not sure whether they were supposed to be fish, frogs, or humans - or a combination of all three. Despite their relatively human shape, they seemed to have webbed hands and feet; glassy, bulging eyes and fins. He thought he could even make out slits chiselled in the sides of the necks, like gills. He shivered, and it had nothing to do with the fact that he was soaked to the bone by the spray off the reefs. 

Nonetheless, as oddly frightening as it was, it was no help in finding Hikari. 

"Any luck?" Yamato asked, balancing his way along the rocks to come and stand beside Taichi. He had evidently managed to convince Takeru to stay on the shore, because Taichi could see the younger boy standing at the very edge of the reef and shouting. 

"None," he admitted, "I've looked everywhere, except under the ocean, and there's no way they would have been able to take Hikari down there." 

"She's not here, Taichi," his friend told him grimly, "There would have been some sign of her if there was. And Takeru said it was different from last time in that he could not hear Hikari calling for help nor feel her pulling him to her. So, she must have just run away from home, like your mother said." 

Staring at his friend, Taichi wanted to argue with him, but the stark truth of his words was undeniable. They had searched every, possible inch of the Dark Ocean, and they had not found Hikari. They had not even found any indication that she might have been there. All his anger, all his sadness, all his desperate hoping had vanished and no other emotion had come to fill their place. He suddenly felt very tired and hopeless. 

"I want to go home, Yamato," he said. 

* * *

"You're lucky Mom didn't catch us," Yamato told Takeru as he handed him a bowl of raman soup and a spoon with which to eat it, "You're the one who has to live with her and her lectures about responsibility, after all. I can always escape home to Dad." 

Curled up beneath his blankets, Takeru tried to manage a weak smile for his brother's sake, but failed. He knew Yamato was trying to make him feel better by joking and talking as if nothing had happened, but he doubted that anything could. With Hikari missing, he could not even pretend to be brave or cheerful, as he had so often in the past. She had been the reason for his courage and his happiness. Now that she was gone, he felt empty in a way he had not felt since Angemon had sacrificed himself to save him and to defeat Devimon. 

Even worse than that, however, was the nagging feeling at the back of his mind that he had forgotten something important. It had been plaguing him ever since he heard Taichi shout at Yamato that Hikari was missing. From time to time, bits of it seemed to emerge clearly from the blur of fever that had been the previous night. A heavy slant of light across the hallway. Glitters of sand on bare feet. The clear, night sky with its cold stars shining through . . . He shook his head in frustration. 

"If only I could remember . . . ." 

"Remember what?" Yamato asked, taking a seat in the other chair and tucking into his own plate of soup. 

"Nothing," he lifted his head to look directly at his brother, "Yamato, do you think Hikari's gone forever?"

"No way," he said resolutely, "Like I said to Taichi earlier, we'll get her back, no matter where she's gone. Dad's getting the newspeople to run a segment on _Ohayo Odaiba!_, Mom's putting an advert in all the papers which she does freelance work for, and the rest of us are going to cover the city in flyers. We'll find her, you'll see." 

Takeru was silent, stirring his soup with his spoon. As much as he wanted to believe his brother's reassuring words, he could not. He knew with a cool, precise certainty that none of that would work. He did not understand how he knew it, but he did beyond all doubt. Hikari was beyond the reach of adverts and flyers and television segments. She was somewhere beyond even his reach, and they had been connected both by destiny and by love since they had been children. Hope and Light at the heart of the Digital World. Takaishi Takeru and Yagami Hikari in the heart of each other. 

"I'm in love with her, Yamato," he admitted at last. 

Setting aside his bowl of soup, his brother came and put an arm around him, "I know." 

* * *

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Acknowledgements:

A great deal of the Dark Ocean's description is adapted from Innsmouth in _The_ _Shadow Over Innsmouth_ by H.P.Lovecraft. As I noted, _The Call of Dagomon_ (which was translated as _His Master's Voice_) is based very heavily on this story. The monolith's description relies on _Dagon_ by the same writer. 

****

Original\Language Notes:

Ohayo Odaiba! = Good Morning Odaiba! 

Digimon Kaizer = Digimon Emperor


	7. Admissions and Omissions

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Disclaimer: Characters belong to Toei. If they belonged to me, Imperialdramon would not be the glory hog he is and "let's sic Imperialdramon on him" would not count as a plan. ^.^ As that's the only thing that seems to happen in the last episodes, you can tell I don't and I'm not making any money from this. 

This is a loose ends chapter in many ways. I'm ashamed to say I forgot Ken opened a portal to the Dark Ocean to send back Demon when I wrote the Taichi and Ken paragraph. This chapter attempts to explain it with a bit of literary legerdemain. I also needed to put in Daisuke's reaction to Hikari's disappearance. I didn't want this to turn into a Daisuke vs Takeru 'fic, which I generally and genuinely dislike, so I've kiboshed any chances of that with some pukesomely cute Daiken. 

****

A STORM OVER BLOSSOMS

CHAPTER 7

"I'm sorry I lied to you, Taichi, but there's no way I was going to let anyone else get involved in the Dark Ocean," Ichijouji Ken said solemnly to the boy grinning from the group photograph on his desk. With his one arm around Sora and the other around Hikari, he looked so different to the frantic Taichi who had confronted him in the library that morning. This Taichi looked like he could conquer any enemy, handle any problem, face anything that happened. That one had looked utterly defeated. His hand closed around the black Digivice on his desk, "If anyone has to go there, it should be me." 

Swallowing, he squeezed his eyes shut and tried to reach out the Dark Ocean as he had done twice in the past. Ignoring the nausea it provoked in him, he recalled the black, oily, heavy feeling with which he had lived for three years. He remembered every deed he had done as the Digimon Kaizer - the Digimon he had beaten and tortured, the experiments with Skullgreymon, the control spires which had become Kimeramon, and - most painfully - the way he had abused and murdered Wormmon. Battled to keep himself from being sick, he imagined that liquid darkness flowing out through his D3, pooling in the air and rippling in time with the waves on the Dark Ocean. He opened his eyes slowly, and . . . Nothing had changed.

There was no portal.

His fist clenched tightly around the device, knuckles going white. _Why can't I do it? I thought I'd never be free of the Dark Ocean, or of the darkness within me. Now, now . . . I need it to help Hikari, yet I can't reach any of it. It's all gone. I'm free of it. _He could have wept at the irony. _What am I going to do? _

"Ken?" his mother tapped lightly on the door, before he could come up with another plan, "Daisuke is here to see you." 

Shoving his D3 angrily back into his pocket, Ken opened the door to let his boyfriend into the room. Pain stabbed his chest when he saw him standing there. He had never seen Daisuke look so young or so lost before. He had a dazed, distant expression on his face, like a child walking in a nightmare. His jacket was turned inside-out, so that the label and seams were visible, and even his prized goggles were crooked on his head.

"Please. Don't ask me how I'm feeling. Don't tell me it's going to be okay," his boyfriend held up a hand to halt any questions, "I've had it from everyone, including your mother. I can't take it from you." 

Enfolding him in his arms, Ken kissed him lightly on the forehead. He knew there was a small part of Daisuke that still loved Hikari. It did not matter that she had never returned his feelings or that they had never been out on a single date. It did not even matter that he had been seeing Ken for over a year now. There would always be a part of him that would look at Hikari and remember the first thrill of love. Remember sneaking glances at her under the cover of a book; passing notes to her under the desk; brushing against her hand by accident on purpose; saving up all his money to buy her a necklace on her birthday. Ken felt no jealousy at that. You never got over your first love completely. What mattered was that he loved him now and that they were together. 

As Daisuke nuzzled his head into his shoulder, Ken suddenly felt a tremendous protectiveness surge up in him. Even after all that he had seen and done, Daisuke was still so innocent. He had never known the depths of pain and loss that Ken had, and he had never been touched by the darkness that had been a part of his everyday life. It was part of the reason he loved him, but it was the entire reason he needed to protect him. 

For a long time, they stood in silence, simply holding each other. 

Eventually, however, Daisuke spoke, his voice muffled by Ken's sweater, "We had better get going, Ken. We have to meet at Sora's place in a bit to collect flyers." 

"Flyers won't help," he told him grimly, "From what Taichi says, she's in the Dark Ocean. I tried to reach across to it, to open a portal like I did with Demon, but . . . I couldn't." 

"Argh. I knew there was something I forgot to mention to you," Daisuke exclaimed, stepping backwards to look at Ken, "Taichi went to the Dark Ocean. He searched almost the whole place. Hikari's not there." 

Puzzled, "How did he get there?" 

"I don't know," he shrugged, "Sora was pretty vague when she phoned me. Something about Takeru and his crest." 

Ken frowned. Of all the Chosen Children, Takeru was the last one whom he had expected to be able to reach the Dark Ocean. He hated darkness in all its forms. There was no way that darkness could touch him, because there was simply no crack in his soul into which it could creep. If it had to do with his crest, it was even stranger, because hope was the antithesis of darkness. Even cliches insisted that it was the light at the end of the tunnel. 

"Are you sure?" 

"About what?" 

"Never mind. It's not important," he waved it away with a hand, "By the way, you came all the way to Tamachi just to collect me?"

"Yeah, I guess. I couldn't just sit at home and wait," his boyfriend admitted, running a hand through his hair, "I couldn't just do nothing. I felt like I was going to crawl out of my skin if I didn't go somewhere or do something or help in some way. . . ." 

"Well, I'm glad you came, Dai," Ken said warmly, "Now, let's get going. We don't want to keep Sora waiting." 

*

"Thank you so much, Mr Hayashi," Daisuke called as he taped the poster securely into place in the shop's window. It was the last of what had been a thick pile of them, all neatly photocopied and coloured by Sora and Miyako. He had easily found places for most of them. Most of the shopkeepers had been too happy to help when they had heard his story, and had even offered to take a stack of fliers and hand them out to their customers too. He doubted there was a store in Odaiba that did not have Hikari's face plastered on it somewhere.

Sighing, he ran around to the front of the shore to check his handiwork. Even though he had been staring at the posters all day, even though he loved Ken now, his stomach still gave an odd, queasy twist when he saw Hikari smiling at him from behind the glass. It was a good photograph of her, taken at a Christmas party. She had a tinsel halo around her forehead, which made her look even more like an angel than usual, and her cheeks were flushed from the cold. He could not believe she had run away. 

Dully, he read the words on the poster aloud: 

****

GIRL MISSING 

Yagami Hikari went missing on the 5 April in Odaiba. 

She is short and slight, and has brown hair and brown eyes. 

She is 13 years old. 

If you have seen her or have any information about her,

phone (03) 5555-7654. 


	8. Interlude 1: To Lovely Lenore

****

A STORM OVER BLOSSOMS

INTERLUDE ONE

TO LOVELY LENORE

*

"I am writing this to you, my lovely Lenore, that you might know what drove your husband to claim his own life. Do not judge me too harshly. When you have read these pages, you will understand why I can no longer continue in this life. You might even be able to forgive me, although I know I do not deserve it. 

It all began a few years ago when I was caught in a storm at sea. It rose out of a clear, blue sky in a matter of seconds, and completely engulfed my boat. Needless to say, even though I managed to survive the storm by the grace of God and by the special providence that governs sailors, the effects on my ship were catastrophic. My mast snapped off in the winds, and the large part of my cargo went overboard. My compass and charts were also lost in the tempest, as was the larger part of my supplies of both fresh water and food. To add to my misery, I was blown miles off course into the middle of an ocean and had no way of navigating my way home.

After weeks of drifting aimlessly at sea, wherever the tides took me, I had lost all hope of seeing the shores of my native Rhode Island again. At that time, it seemed I had been saved from death by drowning only to die the slower, agonising one of starvation or dehydration. I knew I would use my pistol on myself and take my own life before I permitted that to happen. 

With these and other grim thoughts in mind, it is no wonder that I slept fitfully that evening or that my dreams were strange. More than once in the course of the night, I fancied that I was walking in a submarine palace. I battle to recall much of its exact appearance now. The structure itself seemed to be made of white coral, and had many spires and terraces. Banners of kelp flew on its towers. Around it, there were gardens of leprous seaweed and odd, glowing rocks. As if this were not curious enough, strange, obscene creatures walked its hallways with me. They resembled men in form, yet frogs or fish in feature. They had odd, bulging eyes; flat faces with repugnant slits for noses; and only a few, pale hairs clinging to their otherwise bald heads. They spoke of a sea-change. They told me that I could be transformed, like them, and that I could join their numbers. They promised that I would live forever in the deeps, and walk with those who were ancient beyond the memory of man. 

When I woke that morning in a cold sweat, I found that everything had changed while I had slept. My ship appeared to have run aground in the course of the night, not on a beach but on a rotting mass. In the one direction, a leaden ocean stretched beyond sight. The other direction was even less appealing - an endless, black plain of decay. I could make out black, slimy seaweed, as well as the carcasses of fish and of other marine animals which I could not identify. The smell of rot pervaded everything, and turned my stomach. There was no sign of any life or habitation, no sign of any threat to me, yet my main impression was one of all-pervading menace. 

It was hours before I dared venture off the ship into the stinking mire. Even though the land appeared to provide little succor for the traveller in way of supplies or hospitality, I knew I could not stay where I was, for my rations were almost exhausted. Consequently, I resolved to set out for a little hillock which I saw some miles away. From there, I would be able to survey the island and hopefully find a village to which I could travel. With that plan in mind and with enough supplies for three days, I climbed off my vessel. The ground below my feet sunk slightly when I stepped onto it, but it was solid enough to bear my weight, just as it had been solid enough for that of my craft. 

The smell of rot was sickening, but I had more important matters on my mind than to worry about such a trifle. I ignored it and forged westward. For an entire day and night, I travelled towards my hillock, which was much further than I had estimated from my ship. I did not dare to sleep or even to rest, fearing that I would sink into the morass or that I would be suffocated by the stink. However, the end result was that, by the time morning broke, I had arrived at my destination. 

Ascending the hillock, I surveyed my surroundings. To my delight, only a few hours away from me by foot, I saw a village lying snugly in a reef. There appeared to be a lighthouse on the reef, although it seemed more like a slender monolith from this distance. Smoke rose from its chimneys, almost invisible against the grey-black sky. It was enough to give me courage and to restore my hope. Shouldering my load with a lighter heart, I was about to turn around and head for my proverbial port in a storm, when a hideous chanting suddenly seemed to rise from the sea. 

I shudder to commit those obscene syllables to paper, but I have resolved to give a full account of events and must not omit what disquiets or disgusts me for fear of being thought to have invented or altered the rest by you. They were sounds no human voice could make, nor any animal about which I know. To my ear, they sounded like:

Ia! Ia! Cthulhu fhtagn! Phn'nglui mglw'nafh Chthulhu R'lyeh wgah-nagl fhtagn! 

After a few minutes of that, a counterpoint of sorts arose to it: 

_Mene, mene, tekel, upharsin! _

Even though my every instinct was telling me to flee, I found I could not. I found myself rooted to the spot, staring in horrified fascination at the ocean before me. The grey waters began to churn, and a creature began to emerge from it. The human mind's capacity to forget is astounding, for I find I can remember little of the beast's appearance. I remember a head, ovoid and elongated like that of a squid. I remember scaly tentacles, flailing the water. I remember red eyes glowing above the misty sea. Beyond that, I have no recollection of its appearance

Nor do I have any rememberance of what I did next. I think I must have gone insane at that moment for I remember nothing of the hours or days after I saw the creature. When I awoke from the shadows, I was lying in a hospital. The nurse told me that some fishermen had come across my boat drifting in the waters, that I had been delirious and had raved about an undersea god and his servants. They had brought me and my craft back to America. 

I would like to pretend that it was all a phantasy, brought on by lack of sleep and food. However, I know better. I know my vision was real, and I know they are coming for me. There are times at night, when the moon is full across the harbour, that I hear them in the hallway of my boarding house. I hear the movement of a heavy, slippery body across the floor or a soft, hoarse croak outside my door. And I hear my own voice try to speak the obscene invocation of a impious god: _Ia-R'lyeh! Cthulhu fhtagn! Ia! Ia!_

I hope you will forgive me, Lenore, for what I am about to do. I have no other option. I can no longer resist the call of the ocean, and no longer fight that sea-change that I feel happening in my bones. I do not know what to do to save myself from it, other than to take my own life. I only know that an early death is preferable to an eternal life spent in the black deeps in the service of that creature. As you forgive me, may God forgive me too.

Your loving husband,

Captain Abel McAllister

Providence, Rhode Island

17 February, 1910 " 

*

****

Author's Explanatory Notes: 

I think this part needs some explanation, because I have a feeling a number of people will read it and wonder why I included it. To be honest, it does little or nothing to further the plot. It's basically a standalone piece, that could be removed from_ A Storm Over Blossoms _without either story losing coherence. 

I hope, however, it does further your knowledge of the Dark Ocean and of the mythos surrounding it. It is intended to give you a richer idea about Dagomon (or Dagon), his servants as well as the submarine realm of Y'ha-nthlei in which they live. 

It is basically a condensing and melding of_ Dagon_ and the pertinent parts of A _Shadow Over Innsmouth_ into one, neat story. The style and the oblique manner of telling is deliberately Lovecraftian. Which means it was quite fun, yet challenging, to write. ^.^ 

****

Language Notes:

Don't ask me precisely what the chant means. It's taken directly from Lovecraft, and I'm not a Lovecraft scholar. _Phn'nglui mglw'nafh Chthulhu R'lyeh wgah-nagl fhtagn! _is something like "In his house at R'leyh dead Chthulhu waits dreaming", according to _The Call of Cthulhu_. 

****

Bibliography:

My conscience has gotten the better of me, because I should have done this some chapters ago, as the good, English major I am. If you're interested in the Dark Ocean, I really recommend any and all of these: 

Lovecraft, H.P. "Dagon" _Omnibus 2: Dagon and Other Macabre Tales._ HarpersCollins: London. (1994) 

Lovecraft, H.P. "The Shadow Over Innsmouth" _Omnibus 3: The Haunter of the Dark and Other Tales._ HarpersCollins: London. (1994) 

Lovecraft, H.P. "The Call of Cthulhu" _Omnibus 3: The Haunter of the Dark._ HarpersCollins: London. (1994) 


	9. 'Sweet Lethe Is My Life'

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Disclaimer: The characters belong to Akiyoshi Hongo and Toei Animation Corp. If they belonged to me, Patamon would have had the Patamobile, Patarangs and the Patajet. (Which would have had all sorts of merchandising possibilities). As they don't, I'm not making any profit off this, except your comments. Hint, hint, hint. I'm such a shill. ^.^

For those who are interested in structure (and I don't mean the 'structure' of Ishida Yamato!), this chapter marks the beginning of the second movement of the story. If you've wanted to know what happened to Hikari and what is unda da Dark Ocean (not a Disney song in that one!), these parts are for you. The next, few parts might be exclusively Hikari\Dagon actually. 

I also want to say that I'm starting an announcement service for my 'fics on this site (way to subvert the PayPal program, girl). If you want to be informed when my 'fics are updated, e-mail me at brucepat@iafrica.com or hopes_angel2@hotmail.com with your addy and I'll add you to that. 

Finally, I really need a beta-reader for my Digimon 'fics. I've been doing my own editing to date, but I'm not sure how satisfactory that is. I have a tendency to think that every word I write is absolute garbage. All being my beta would require is reading through my 'fics and telling me where they can be improved. If you're interested, e-mail me or shove your name on the review board. 

****

A STORM OVER BLOSSOMS

'SWEET LETHE IS MY LIFE'

CHAPTER 8

Chest burning, muscles aching, Takeru sprinted down the avenue of cherry trees in the grey, predawn light. Unsurprisingly, nobody else was in the park at that time of morning. There were only the trees streaming away into the distance on either side. They had stopped flowering a long time ago, the bloom killed by the heat of summer. The archway of pink, fragrant blossom was now one of glossy, green leaves.

Flowers on her sleek, dark head. A handful of squashed blossoms down his shirt. They had lain together in silence on the ground, watching the blossoms drift like butterflies over the park . . . . No. Run faster. 

Sprinting through the dappled shadows, he forced himself to pick up speed. Sharp spikes of agony shot up his calves, protesting his acceleration. His lungs felt as if they were about to burst in his chest. 

__

Twisting in his tracks, _he glanced over his shoulder. She was running after him, laughing, her cheeks pink, her hands full of blossoms. He increased his speed to get away from her . . . .NO. Run faster. _

Wildly, he vaulted over the low fence that bordered the avenue of trees. From there, a green, lush hill sloped down to the lake. Putting down his head, he stretched out his legs and let the slope do what his body could not. The wind slapped his clothes and stung his skin. He felt as if he were about to trip and fall onto his face, his feet going too fast for his body to keep pace. The landscape flowed away from him, dizzyingly rapid.

__

And she was hunched over on the grass, her hair dark with sweat, her cheeks as pink as sakura, her breath coming in short, sharp gasps. And his heart leapt into his throat because he was so afraid that she was hurt and that . . . Shit. He stopped on the bridge, hands on his knees, coughing and panting. _I can't run any faster. _

* * *

"You'd better eat your omelet, mom," Taichi said gently, nudging the plate closer towards her. She stared back at him with blank, incurious eyes, picking up her fork and mechanically beginning to eat the food he had prepared her. He doubted she tasted a bite of it. She had been like this ever since Hikari had left, and he suspected it had everything to do with the bottle of little, blue pills that the doctor had prescribed 'to help her sleep'. They had certainly been successful in doing that. His mother had fallen asleep three months ago and had not woken up since, leaving him and his father to look after her, as if she were the child. 

Hot anger surged up in him as he looked at her expressionless, dead face. Did Hiruko think she was the only one who missed Hikari? Did she think she was the only one who was suffering because of it? Both he and his father had to live everyday with the pain of not knowing where Hikari was, whether she was alive or dead, or when she would come back to them. They had to cope with it, had to carry on with their lives without her, but his mother swallowed forgetfulness in a glass of water every morning.

He stood, slamming the chair back into place beneath the table. His mother did not even flinch at the loud noise, continuing to push her omelet around on her plate and stare blankly out the window. Nonetheless, Taichi felt remorse for his fit of temper. Hiruko looked so small and thin in her white, linen robe. She had lost a lot of weight since Hikari had left. He could see the bones in her hands, as fine as those of a bird's wing. Her cheekbones jutted out from her face as well, and her throat was sunken. She looked like a china-doll, delicate and breakable. 

"I've got soccer practise today, so I'll be back late. And I promised Yamato I'd help him carry amplifiers to the concert hall this morning, so I've got to leave this early," he told in a calmer voice, even though he knew she was not listening to him. He stooped to kiss her cheek, feeling its dry paperiness beneath his lips, "Goodbye, mom. See you later!" 

* * *

"Help me! Takeru!" 

With a start, the sleeper awoke and looked around herself with a shiver. Initially, she could not see much, but her eyes soon adjusted to the dimness. The room would have been completely dark, had it not been for a soft phosphorescence that seemed to be coming from the walls. They themselves looked almost as if they had grown organically, rather than had been built or carved by any workmen. They were oddly sinuous, rippling upwards from the floor, like waves or tentacles. In the sickly light, they looked as white and as stark as bone, apart from jarring flecks of mineral orange and red and green embedded in them. 

Stranger still, on the natural shelves formed by the walls, someone seemed to have collected an odd assortment of objects. She frowned in puzzlement as she looked at them. There was a music-box, rusted into silence by the ocean, and a collection of priceless necklaces on a decayed cushion. Collected with no less care were salt-blackened knives and forks, neatly arranged in their cutlery box. On either side of them stood delicate, jade statuettes, carved to look like horses or men playing the _kinnokoto_. Below them, a sinister-looking, china doll stared at her with gaping eyes and mouth. Its hair, the paint on its face, its clothes had all been scoured off by the sand or corroded by the seawater. 

Shuddering, she looked away from it and realised that she herself was sitting in a four-poster bed that had been grand once, but had been ruined by the ocean. The wood was swollen and splitting; the silk sheets and canopies had rotted to tatters.

Sudden panic welled up in her, quick and acidic. _Where am I? How did I get here? _

Desperately, she tried to think back, but her head was heavy and fuzzy as if she had been sleeping for a long time. It felt as if there were thick, grey fog where her memory should have been. She could not seem to remember anything before waking up with a name on her lips. _Whose name did I call? Takeru? That's a boy's name, but who is he? Who is Takeru? _Curiously, she tested the name on her lips. She felt as if she should have known the boy, but she could not dredge his face out of the chaotic swirl that was her memory. She had a brief, vague impression of a shooting star, but her head began to throb painfully before it could resolve into anything. 

She pressed her hands to her forehead, rubbing her aching temples._ I have to be able to remember something, don't I? My name . . . What is my name? _She realised with a sudden, sharp shock that she could not even remember her name. It was not that she had just forgotten where she was or how she got there, but she had forgotten everything about herself and about her past. She felt cold and it had nothing to do with the temperature. Desperately, she tugged aside her sheets and swung onto the floor. _My face. If I see my face, maybe I will remember. _

Hugging her bare arms against the chill, she walked to the bowl of water on a stand in the corner of the room. She pulled her hair away from her face and leaned over the dish. Mirror-still, the water inside it reflected her face perfectly, even though it felt she was looking at a stranger. Whoever she was, she was pale and thin with large, brown eyes and bobbed, dark hair. She could not have been older than thirteen. The greenish light made her look oddly sickly. She blinked at the strange girl who was herself, eyes prickling with tears. 

"Who am I?" she asked the reflection, her tears falling into the water and distorting the face in it, "And how do I get home?" 

* * *

Even though he knew he would be late for school if he did not go home and change immediately, Takeru leaned on the railings of the bridge and stared down at the lake beneath him. In the morning light, the water looked grey and murky. It was more like fog than water, moving slowly underneath him. He stooped to pick up a stone and skipped it lightly across the surface with a flick of his wrist. It hopped seven times, before vanishing with a liquid ripple. He smiled in satisfaction. _Still got the trick, Takaishi. _

Sighing, he began to turn from the bridge towards the path home, when a movement on the lake's surface caught his eye. He frowned in puzzlement. It was physically impossible, but ripples were still spreading slowly out from the place where his stone had sunk. They seemed to be growing larger and stronger too, crossing and breaking, where he would have expected them to be disappearing. _There has to be a rational explanation. Air trapped in pondweed, underwater creatures, blah blah blah. Still, I don't think my science teacher will care about any of that, if I'm late for her lesson. Twenty minutes to get home, shower and get to school. . . Piece of cake! _

With a tug to his laces to ensure his sneakers were secure, Takeru kicked off from the bridge and sprinted across the field in the direction of his apartment. Behind him, in the distance, he heard a high, female voice asking for directions home. He felt his stomach give a queasy hop. It sounded almost like Hikari, but he knew that was impossible. Hikari was gone. She had been gone for three months now. And she was never, never, never coming home. 

Putting down his head, telling himself it was just the wind that caused his eyes to tear, he ran all the faster.

* * *

TO BE CONTINUED

* * *

CULTURAL NOTES:

* I think I've adequately mentioned the cultural significance of _sakura_. Chapter 1 has all of those notes. I should say that it isn't actually that fragrant a flower, so I've probably used some poetic license there. In clusters, like the huge mass at my own park, I myself think it does have a noticable scent. Nonetheless, if you're interested, Murasaki wrote a _waka_ which indicates she feels it did not have much: 

__

Neither the cherry, loveliest of flowers, nor lowly pear has much scent; neither is there is a difference in the way they fall. 

* The _kinnokoto_ (or _gu ghim_ to give it the Chinese name) is a seven-stringed instrument. Dalby describes its sound as "singing, whispering, plaintive". Having heard it, I'd agree with that description. (Quite incidentally, when I'm finished one of my stories, how many would be interested in one set in the Heian era? Think medieval Takari, but actually Japanese and not pseudo-English. ^.^) 

* Japanese summers are really hot. Wow, what a revelation! I bet none of you knew that before reading this story! ^.^ Anyway, I'll put up some funny pictures from the 4th movie of Mimi standing in front of a fan, if you want to see them. ^.^ 

SEIYUU NOTES:

* As Hikari's seiyuu, Araki Kae has an incredibly high voice. Think helium high. If you haven't heard her, I'll put some clips from Fushigi Yuugi up on my webpage. Or I do have the infamous "Tasukete! Taichi-san! Tailmon! Takeru-kun!" file which I downloaded from another webpage. Please note: it's obligatory to yell "Not the bloody National Guard!" at the end of listening to it! ^.~ 

STORY NOTES: 

* The title is taken from a Plath poem, as is one line of the story that I rather liked. If you're interested, the full stanza reads "O sister, mother, wife \ Sweet Lethe is my life. \ I am never, never, never coming home!". There's no real connection between the poem and this story, of course. I just have been reading Plath recently as a counterpoint to my Hughes' course, and thought those lines might work. 

* Lethe is the River of Forgetfulness in the Greek Underworld. (Different literary tradition, I know!) And I'm so sorry to go with the cliched amnesia, but it's necessary for the rest of the story. 


	10. Awakenings

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Disclaimer: The characters belong to Akiyoshi Hongo and Toei Animation Corp. If they belonged to me, I would have forced the Amerikajin VAs to learn how to say the Japanese names. "Now, say it after me, Yuh-muh-toh". Obviously, they didn't, so I'm not making any profit from this story. Except your lovely reviews! ^.^

Be forewarned that this story takes a bit of a left turn at Alberqueque in this part. Firstly, I wanted to do a bit more on who Dagon is. Secondly, I've been watching Fushigi Yuugi, and wanted to work in some of that mythology into the story. It was mainly because I was amused by the irony of Miaka being Suzaku no Miko, while Hikari was connected to Seiryuu. Not that there is any irony beyond them having the same seiyuu, but . . . eh, it's fun. When Miaka gets into trouble, I tend to yell "Tasukete, Takeru-kun!" in my best imitation of Kae-sama. ^.^ 

Otherwise, if you want to be told when this story - or any of my other Digimon 'fics - is updated, e-mail me at brucepat@iafrica.com_ and I'll add you to the list._

* * *

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A Storm Over Blossoms

Chapter Nine

Awakenings

"The Deep Ones inform me that your sleeper has awoken, Lord Dagomon," Demon said, as he prostrated himself in front of Dagomon's throne. His head between his palms, his staff laid next to him, he waited for permission to stand. A long time ago, he would have found his position humiliating. He had thought himself the most powerful of all Digimon and the natural ruler of the Digital World, until he had encountered Dagomon. Besides Dagomon, he might as well have been a baby. And Demon was a creature who recognised power and the necessity of bowing to it. Knowing that he could never beat or surpass him, he had resigned himself to serving him. He had even gotten used to the subservience of his new position, just as he had grown accustomed to the darkness and the decay of his new home. 

"Rise, my Demon," the chamber vibrated with Dagomon's voice. With the assistance of his staff, Demon clambered to his feet and looked up at his master. Months later, he still had to fight against the urge to flee when he saw Dagomon. Sitting on a throne of bleached bone, he was roughly humanoid in shape, but that only served to highlight how incredibly alien the rest of him was. His head was high and domed, like that of a squid, and set with two, blood-crimson eyes. Leathery wings were folded at his back amidst a twisting complex of tentacles. His smooth, silvery skin was mottled with black patches, so that, when he moved, shadows seemed to dapple across him. 

His mouth opened to reveal multiple rows of teeth, "She has awoken?" 

"Ye -," Demon began to reply, but Dagomon raised an arm to caution him to silence. He lifted himself off his throne and moved to a clear, shallow pool in the centre of the room. Passing a hand across it, he spoke several, soft words in a language that was unfamiliar to the other Digimon. They sounded almost like the sighing of the ocean. Curious, Demon edged closer to see what he was doing. The water in the pond began to cloud, then cleared again to reveal an image. It was of a young girl standing in one of the bedrooms of the palace and herself gazing into a bowl of water. She was dressed in a white nightdress, brown hair falling loosely down to her shoulders, and her feet were bare. As if she were aware she was being observed, she turned to glance over her shoulder with a bewildered expression on her face. Demon hissed in rage when he saw who Dagomon's sleeper was.

"I know this girl," he said, temporarily forgetting himself, "She was one of the children who banished me to this place." 

"The Shining One. I know who she is. I have always known of her." 

"Forgive my impertinence, my lord, but that could pose a problem to your plans. If she is the Child of Light, then she is under the protection of Seiryuu," Demon's voice dropped to a hush at the last word. After Dagomon, Seiryuu was the only creature in the world he feared. The Blue Dragon of the East was the god of warfare for good reason, while Azulongmon was the least of his manifestations. In his full glory, Demon did not doubt that he was more terrible than lightning and more powerful than the storm. And the Children of Hope and Light were his special servants. 

Dagomon dismissed his concerns with a flick of a tentacle, "I do not fear Seiryuu, for I am far older than he. I came into being when the first man glanced at the first woman, and his blood quickened in his veins. I came into being when they lay down together in the dust. I came into being when her stomach swelled with child, and when she gave birth amidst blood and screams." 

Demon was not much comforted by his master's claims. He wanted to argue with Dagomon that it did not matter how ancient or how powerful he was. He was still a fertility spirit, and a fertility spirit had little chance against a war-god. If he interfered with those under Seiryuu's protection, he would be destroyed as surely as the tides turned. Instead, he asked him: "If I may stretch your patience, Great Dagomon, why do you need her?" 

Silently, Dagomon stretched out a sinuous tentacle and drew aside the membraneous curtain that screened off a private alcove. Demon could not suppress a shiver as he saw what it had concealed. In a deep pool, a creature lay dying. Its nine, reptilian heads lolled at the ends of long, oddly graceful necks. Its sides rose and fell almost imperceptibly, and its flippers gently stirred the surrounding waters. At the movement of the drapes, it opened one, gem-bright eye to look incuriously around it, but it soon fluttered shut as if even seeing were too much effort. 

Puzzled, Demon turned back to his master, "I do not understand." 

"Hydramon is dying. And with her dies Y'ha-nthlei." 

There was no sorrow in Dagomon's voice, only a pitiless, merciless acceptance of the inevitability of nature. It was the voice of a speaker who had seen creatures burst from the egg to devour and to be devoured in turn. It was the voice of a speaker who had seen empires rise to greatness, then crumble again into the dust from which they had come. It was the voice of a speaker who knew that all dominions must end, even his own, even though he was not ready to accept it. 

"You wish to take the child as your new queen?" Demon could not keep the surprise out of his voice. 

"The Shining One is powerful. She will make a worthy queen, who will lead my servants out of the deeps into the light. They will rise to take great cities, and they will bring me the tribute that I crave." 

"She will not serve you willingly," Demon cautioned, "She rejected you last time. She might reject you again." 

"I know. That is why I have stolen her memories from her. See." 

With infinite delicacy, Dagomon curled a tentacle around a clam-shell on one of the rocks and passed it to Demon. It felt cool and solid in his hands, and its surface glimmered white as pearl. Cautiously, he opened it a fraction and peered within it . . . . 

__

. . . She squeezes her eyes shut, unwilling to wake. She feels so warm and safe in her nest of leaves, warm and safe for the first time in weeks. If she wakes, all the danger and fighting will begin again. She will be expected to be strong for her brother, for Tailmon, for all of them. In the distance, a high, clear voice calls her name, but she ignores it. She doesn't have to be anybody for anyone here. Warm water, like tears, drips onto her cheeks. Is someone crying for her? The thought makes her feel all strange and guilty. She has to be sure. Her eyes open and she sees their faces around her, smiling down at her like sunshine. Tailmon. Takeru. You're awake, Hikari. You're okay . . . . 

Demon snapped it shut, and looked up at his master in awe. He was a powerful magician himself, but he never could have done something like this. 

"And there is no way of breaking this spell?" 

"It will break when the shell is broken," Dagomon carefully took it from him and replaced it in its niche in the rocks, "And that shall not happen. Now, leave me, Demon. I must prepare to receive my guest." 

* * *

Wiping her eyes dry with the back of her hand, the girl turned away from the bowl of water and the stranger in it. For a moment, it had felt like someone was watching her. That was impossible, of course. She was alone in the room, and she doubted this ancient, ruined palace was wired with cameras. Nonetheless, it had made her realise how vulnerable she was. She was all by herself in a strange place without any means of defending herself or any knowledge of how she might return home. Wherever home was. She felt helpless tears begin to prickle in her eyes again. 

"You've had your cry," she told herself firmly, "Now, you have to find a way out of here. Maybe if you know where you are, you'll be able to work out who you are. But you need to find a weapon before you do anything else. There's no telling what lies behind that door." 

Her bare feet silent on the floor, she padded across the room to the niches in the wall. There had to be something in the odd collection of objects she could use to defend herself, if matters came to the worst. The knives were the obvious choice, but the entire box of cutlery had been fused together by the sea. Even had she been able to extract one, time had dulled their edges until she doubted they would do much damage to a block of butter, let alone an assailant. Speculatively, she picked up a jade statuette of a girl dancing and tested its cool, heavy weight in her hands. It was not perfect, but it was better than nothing. 

She gripped it tightly in her hand as she walked across to the door and slowly turned the knob. The door creaked open a fraction, and she froze. What if someone had heard the sound? She peeked through the crack, noting with some relief that the hallways were deserted. If creatures lived in this strange castle, they were elsewhere. With any luck, they still thought she was asleep. This was her best chance to escape. 

She stepped through the door and quickly shut it behind her. The hallway seemed to be formed of the same, strange substance as her room. A dim, green glow came from the walls, brighter where they bunched into vertical ridges. For a moment, she fancied she was standing in an enormous ribcage, but that was as impossible as her fears about being watched. 

"Left or right?" she asked herself, "Does it even matter? I can always retrace my steps." 

She shrugged and set off at random to the right. She had not gotten far, however, before she heard footsteps behind her. Her stomach twisted painfully inside her. They had found her. They were coming to get her. It was no use running - whatever was pursuing her was closing too fast, and she knew she didn't have a chance of outpacing it. Some, almost memory told her that she had never been good at running. Her only options were to hide and to fight. She pressed herself between two ridges of the wall, hoping her pursuer would run past her, hoping that she would have the nerve to attack it if it did not. Her breathing sounded loud to her own ears, no matter how she tried to quiet it. Her sweaty hands tightened around the little statuette, as she raised it above her head. 

Feeling as if her heart was about to burst through her chest from beating so hard, the girl heard the footsteps pause only inches away from where she was hiding. Did it know she was there? Or had it given up on the chase? 

"I know you are there," a low, almost musical voice said, "Lower your . . . weapon and come out. I shall not hurt you." 

Knowing it was pointless to resist, she did as he asked. She was unable to stifle a gasp of surprise as she saw her pursuer. She had not known exactly what she had expected to see, but it had not been the boy standing in front of her. He had steady, grey eyes and dark, glossy hair which fell in loose waves around his shoulders. He was dressed in a traditional _kimono_ - a black one, embroidered with scarlet and gold fishes. And he was easily the most beautiful boy she had ever seen.

"Who are you?" she whispered. 

"I am known as many, different things to many, different people," he replied in the same melodic tones, "But you may call me Takeru. . . ." 

* * *

*Dum, dum, dah* To be continued!

* * *

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General Notes:

* I think there's a huge misconception that Takeru's tears wake her. They don't. It's just a random drop of water from the ceiling. I've just rewatched the eppy to check. 

* According to Lovecraft, Dagon was the Phoenician fish-god. As such, he was very much a god of fertility to them. 

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Acknowledgements:

* Again, if you're a fan of _Fushigi Yuugi_, you'll recognise its influence on this part. The clam-shell was inspired by Tomo and his use of them to capture memories of the real world. Similarly, my use of Seiryuu as war-god comes from that show. It is there in Digimon 02, though. Azulongmon introduces himself as the Guardian of the East and the keeper of the spheres of Hope and Light. And Miyako makes the connection between him and the four gods of earth and sky in the real world, of whom Seiryuu is the eastern one. (It's appropriate that it is Miyako, of course. Miyako was the old name for Kyoto, where the four spirits are said to be in balance.) 

* Dagomon's description of himself is heavily inspired by Ted Hughes' _Crow_ poems. 


	11. Umi

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Disclaimer: Digimon belongs to Akiyoshi Hongo and Toei Animation Corp. If it belonged to me, we would have actually seen what happened when Takeru and Hikari went off to get cans from the vending machine. Namely, they put money into the slot, pressed the buttons to select their drinks, then carried it back to the other kids. What **were** the rest of you thinking? O.o 

Thanks muchly to **Wolfie** and **Arylwren** for their editing. You both deserve the Crest of Courage for braving my rough draft. Taichi and Daisuke combined have nothing on you. 

Again, if you want to know when my Digimon 'fics are updated, e-mail me or pop a note with your address in the reviews(which I do check on a regular basis). I promise you won't get spam or even green eggs and ham from me. 

This story has hit 43 pages. Whoa. 

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A STORM OVER BLOSSOMS

CHAPTER 10

'UMI'

"I am known as many, different things to many, different people," the boy said in a voice that was the shiver of bells, "But you may call me Takeru. . . ."

Frowning to herself, the girl looked at him. He smiled back at her, his lips very red in his pale face. His black _kimono_ shimmered in the half-light of the hallway, and, for a moment, she thought the fish on it were moving. He had called himself Takeru and she was in no position to contradict him, but every instinct told her that there was something very wrong about that. _But it could just be the general wrongness of this place that's giving me the creeps_. 

She wished she could find some logical basis for her suspicions, but she could only settle on the way he spoke Japanese. He spoke the language with the precise, accented slowness of a foreigner, almost as if he had to think of every word before he said it, yet Takeru was a Japanese name. It wasn't much of a reason, but it was enough to cause her to squeeze the jade statuette that she was holding. Its cold weight was a reassurance in itself, and she briefly wondered if she could move fast enough to knock him out with it. She dismissed the idea, as she remembered how he had seemed to sense where she was hiding. She had the odd feeling he knew what she was planning, for all the smile on his face had not faltered. 

For all her doubts, however, she also realised she would eventually have to trust somebody, if she wanted to get home. Until that moment, her only thought had been to escape the castle undetected and improvise from there. Now, she realised how foolish that had been. Even if she had been successful, she did not know where her home was. She had hoped to piece it together on the run, but she knew she could not rely on her memory returning to her. Her past was still a chaotic swirl inside her head. Oh, she could have asked people, but the chances were that they either would not recognise her or would not be able to tell her. She doubted they spoke Japanese wherever she had ended up. Worse, she had no money, decent clothes or food. Finding a friend might be a matter of survival as much as it was a matter of escape. Why shouldn't it be this boy with his steady, grey eyes? 

__

I was alone when I awoke, so there's no way he could know about me calling that name, she argued with herself. _He has to be the real Takeru. And I must have trusted him then, if he was the first person I thought to call for help. So, why shouldn't I turn to him for help now? Do I even have a choice?_

She was so tired of feeling alone and helpless. It would be nice to lean on someone, to let someone take care of her, not to have to worry about her next move.

"You're Takeru?" she said eventually, her grip on her makeshift weapon loosening. 

"Yes, I am," he spread out an arm, "And this is my kingdom, Y'ha-nthlei." 

The strange syllables rippled off his tongue like water. In response, the walls of the hallway seemed to rise and fall, as if they were skin and muscles were moving beneath them. She put out her hand to touch one, and it felt oddly warm and yielding to the touch. She almost thought she could feel a pulse thrumming through the structure. For a moment, she wondered if Y'ha-nthlei was alive, then dismissed the idea as ridiculous. Her imagination had to be playing tricks on her - it was probably the stress of waking up in a strange place as a stranger to herself.

She turned back to him, hardly daring to ask the question that had been on her lips since she had woken.

"Who am I?" 

"You are Umi, the future queen of Y'ha-nthlei."

"Umi . . . ." she repeated the word. It sounded strange on her lips. It meant 'sea' or 'ocean', she remembered. It was an appropriate name for the future queen of a place that could have been dredged from the bottom of the ocean, for the ruler of a shipwreck kingdom. _It was almost too neat_, a little voice whispered.

Suddenly, the implications of his words hit her with the force of a tidal wave. If this was his kingdom and she was its future queen, then she was his fiancee. They were engaged. She remembered her young, pale face in the pool of water. She had not looked much older than thirteen, not much more than a child. If the reflection was true - and this place was strange enough for her to doubt it - she was years too young to marry. And this Takeru looked only a little older than she did. There was something wrong about that as well, although she could not place precisely what it was. (1)

He must have seen her doubt, because he hastened to reassure her: "We shall not wed for many years, of course. Our hands have been joined in marriage since our births, but our hearts have only become one in recent months," he paused, his grey eyes pleading, "If you remember nothing else, Umi, you must remember your love for me." 

Looking at him, Umi felt the fog in her mind part. For the fraction of a heartbeat, a memory clarified before slipping back into grey confusion. She was lying laughing on the ground, while cool, cherry blossoms drifted down on her. A tall, slim boy - a dazzling smudge against the sun - was pouring them down on her and he was laughing as well. And, even though she could not make out any of his features, she knew it was Takeru and she knew that she loved him. 

Again, however, the same sense of wrongness prickled the back of her neck. The memory was genuine, she had no doubt about that, as was the love that was sunshine-warm and -golden inside of her. But she had the strangest feeling that the Takeru of her memory was not the Takeru standing in front of her. _Don't be stupid, Umi. Who else could it be? How many Takerus could you possibly know? _She pushed her doubts away from her, and turned to him with a radiant smile on her face.

"I do, Takeru. I remember." 

"I knew you would, my love," he returned her smile, "But we can talk more later. You must be famished after your long sleep. I have ordered my servants to bring food to your room. I also have taken the liberty of instructing them to set out more . . . suitable clothes for you," he held out his arm to her, "Allow me the honour of escorting you, although I fear I am unable to join you. I have other business." 

Feeling like she was walking in a dream, Umi linked his arm with his and allowed him to lead her to her room. 

******

"Enjoy your meal, my Umi," Dagomon called, as he walked out of her room and shut the door behind him. He made sure to turn the key in the lock, before continuing up the hallway. Tomorrow, he would tell her it had been for her own safety. Even though he did not think she would try to escape again, he could not take the risk of losing her. She was the only one who could save him from annihilation. 

For centuries now, his power had been failing. A god of beginnings, he needed new worshippers, new voices raised to him, new blood consecrated to him. His Deep Ones, his old and faithful servants, were not enough to sustain him. But people had begun to forsake him for other gods, gods of purity and peace. His nature had frightened them, his rituals had repelled them. There were only a few who remained true, who remembered the old ways and who prayed for the sea-change. His centres of worship had been all but forgotten. Crosses had been erected in the gardens of his churches, or statues of the many-armed god had been placed on their altars. His monoliths, scoured to smoothness by years of sand and water, had been claimed by goddess-worshippers. They wreathed them with flowers, and saw the first mother in their pregnant bulge. Even wonder-haunted Innsmouth had been razed to build a smart, new harbour. And Y'ha-nthlei died every day with Hydra. (2)

Soon, he would also die, if the Shining One and her power did not become his.

With some relief, Dagomon neared his throne room. He had underestimated how difficult it would be to assume and maintain a human form. His skin seemed to hurt him, as if it were too tight for him, and white pain shot up his calves at every step, as if he were treading on knives. He looked behind him in mild surprise. Stretching off into the distance, his bloody footprints were vivid against the white floor. He lifted a foot in his hand, and saw that its sole was raw and bleeding. Still, it was a small price to pay for his bride, if it was the only way to win her. 

Wincing, he limped the last, few steps to his throne and collapsed into it. As he did so, one of his Deep Ones came up to him with a bowl of water in his webbed hands. He bowed deeply, before he placed it on the floor in front of him. Dagomon dismissed him with a curt nod of his head, then waved his hand above the dish and muttered a spell in a low voice. The water clouded and cleared to reveal his future queen. She was standing next to her bed, naked except for her cotton underwear, picking up one _kimono _after another and holding it up against herself. 

A smirk curling his lips, Dagomon thought he would watch her for a while. 

******

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NOTES:

(1) For the three people who don't know this, Takeru is apparently a couple of months younger than Hikari. (I didn't know that until about a week ago, but I'm slow . . . )

(2) "Wonder-haunted Innsmouth" is a direct quote from Lovecraft. Hydra is Dagon's consort in the books. For those who aren't up on Classical Mythology, she's the many-headed monster whose heads were chopped off by Heracles only to have the neck-stumps sprout new ones. I know I mentioned her in an earlier part, and this note should have been there. 

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Go on and press the review button! I dare ya!


	12. Pillars of Salt

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Digimon does not belong to me, but Akiyoshi Hongo and Toei Animation Corp. If it did, no-one would be annoyed about the ending to 02. Obviously, I'm not making a profit off this story.

Again, a massive thank you to Wolfie and Arylwren for their editing. If this chapter is any good, they deserve half the credit. 

Another acknowledgment has to go to Toni Morrison's 'Sula'. The Yagami Hiruko passage was inspired by a scene in it. 

Finally, remember that I do have a list to which you can be added, if you want to be informed about which Digific I've updated as soon as it is updated. Just drop me a note on the review board, and I'll make a note of you in turn. 

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A STORM OVER BLOSSOMS

CHAPTER 11

'Pillars of Salt' 

"I think I have everything for the computer club's party?" Miyako said doubtfully, examining the contents of her shopping bags. One of them was filled to the brim with sweets, chips and cakes, all 'donated' by her father's convenience store. The other had bottles of mineral water and soda in it. 

"Even if you do not, you will still have enough for an army of programmers," Iori replied with a slight smile. Her friend had changed a lot in the course of three years. He had grown tall and thin, while his hair had grown out of its pudding-bowl neatness into a sleek, elegant style. His years of _kendo_ had given him finely-defined muscles, which were evident beneath the tight, mocha shirt he was wearing. Only his eyes were the same - brilliantly green and oddly solemn. Unsurpisingly, his name was on the cover of more than one schoolgirl's book. 

"Should we wait for Takeru?" she asked him. 

He shook his head, "I saw him leave his apartment an hour or two ago. I think he goes running in the park early in the morning." 

Miyako frowned. It seemed like weeks since she had spoken to Takeru. When they passed in the hallways at school or at home, they greeted each other or exchanged pleasantries, but it had been ages since they had had a proper conversation. Ever since Hikari had gone, Takeru had been behaving strangely. According to Yamato, he was spending all of his time on the basketball court training or in his room doing his homework. Even though his marks and game had both improved from what she could tell, she knew it was not healthy for him. Takeru had always been the friendliest, warmest person she had known, yet he was isolating himself now. 

Before she could reply, however, a scrap of crumpled, yellow paper skittered across the pavement in front of them. 

"Ugh. Don't you just hate litterbugs?" she groaned, placing her bags on the step beside her and running after it. Litter was a pet irritation of hers. She stooped to retrieve it, smoothing it in her hands to see if there was a name on it, and felt herself go cold. Three months later, the bold words across the top of the paper still read like an accusation: **Girl Missing**.Beneath them, her tinsel-halo crooked on her forehead, Yagami Hikari still smiled out at her. It was like being interrogated by a ghost.

"Weird," she shivered. 

"What's weird?" a boyish voice asked.

She looked up from the paper to see Takeru standing in front of her. He was wearing a faded, grey shirt, printed with the words "ODAIBA BASKETBALL", over a pair of blue tracksuit pants. Sweat formed damp patches down its front and beneath his arms. His dirty-blond hair was plastered darkly across his forehead. 

A fake grin coming to her face, she crumpled up the poster and attempted to palm it. Without success. It slipped out of her grasp, skittering across the pavement to rest between them. She tried to pretend it wasn't there, although she knew he must have noticed it: "Weird that I have enough sugar to send a kid into a permanent coma, and I'm still thinking about getting more for the party. Ha ha . . . ha." 

Takeru smiled politely and stooped to retrieve the paper, "I think you dropped this, Miyako. I'll throw it away for you . . . . " 

"No need," she said hastily, "I kinda need it for school today." 

"Yes, it's her biology essay," Iori added, "Very important."

A confused expression on his face, "Maybe you should get the wrinkles out of it before you hand it into your teacher. Otherwise, she might think it's litter. Here, let me . . . " 

Before Miyako could stop him, he uncrumpled the poster. His whole expression changed in an instant, as if he had been shot. All the colour drained from his face, and his pupils dilated to swallow up the blue of his irises. He dropped the paper onto the floor and ran up the steps into the apartment complex. 

"Takeru . . . Takeru . . ." Miyako called after him, but he carried on running. It was too late. The damage had been done. She sighed, picking up the poster and throwing it in the bin. It felt wrong, but she did not know what else to do with it. 

"Do you think I should go after him?" Iori asked. 

She shook her head, "And say what? 'Hey, I'm really sorry that Hikari's gone, but you should get over it'. Besides, you'll be late for school, if you don't leave now." 

"I wish there was more I could do for him." 

"Me too, but there isn't," she gave him a tight smile, hefting her shopping bags, "Life goes on. Which means we have to get moving, or else we'll get detention." 

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Leaning his head against the tiles, Takeru shivered in the icy water that poured down on him. The hot water had run cold a long time ago and he knew he was going to be late for school, but he could not get out of the shower. His legs felt too heavy to move, his arms were leaden at his side. At least he had stopped crying. 

The memory of her picture was like a scab he could not help picking. Despite his best efforts, his mind kept returning to the image printed on the poster. Her clear, large eyes. Her cold-flushed cheeks. The crooked, tinsel halo. Her brilliant smile. He squeezed his eyes tight against it, but it didn't help. He still saw her. 

__

Why should I be surprised? he thought bitterly, _I even thought I heard her earlier this morning. _His mind replayed the high, clear girl's voice asking for directions home. On the long run back to his apartment, he had dismissed it as a coincidence or as a trick of his one-track mind, but . . . it had sounded so much like Hikari. He felt warm tears well up in his eyes, and he blinked them back fiercely. _She _had been the one to run away from home. _She _had been the one who had left him. He wished he could hate her for it. 

"Takeru? Are you still home?" his mother's muffled voice asked from the other side of the door, "You'd better get going. School starts in two minutes. I'll give you a ride." 

"Coming, mom . . ." 

__

----------------

In amazement, Yagami Hiruko stared at the broken bottle on the floor in front of her. A golden stain spread out from it and soaked into the beige carpet. Light caught the splinters of glass, shattering into rainbows. And a sweet smell that reminded her of someone painful rose from it. Some part of her knew that she should clean it before it became permanent, that she should go to the cupboard and fetch soap and a cloth, but the rest wanted to sit and watch it grow like sunshine.

Giving into her impulse, she sat down on the floor in her faded house-dress. She noticed that it had a loose thread and she began tugging at it with the same perfect attention that she had paid to the broken bottle. Inch by slow inch, she pulled it out and twined it around her forefinger. She was amazed by how its pale colour became a pure, rich purple as she worked it loose. It seemed like a miracle, although not the one she wanted. 

Losing interest in both bottle and thread, she stood and walked to the window to look out at the city. Against the pale, midday sky, the high-rises looked like cardboard cutouts. If she pushed them, she knew they would fall. They wouldn't even crash, but would rustle gently to the ground. Birds fluttered jerkily between them. The neon signs seemed to twitch on their buildings. The whole scene looked so ridiculous that she couldn't help laughing. And, once she started laughing, she couldn't stop herself, even when her sides began to ache from it. 

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----------------

"I'm worried about Takeru," Daisuke told Ken, as he sat down on the bench next to him and undid his shoelaces. The match between Tamachi and Odaiba had fizzled to a draw a long time ago, but they always waited for their respective teammates to leave before coming to change. Their two regions were not that far apart from each other, but they were distant enough that Ken didn't want to waste any opportunity to spend time with his boyfriend. However, he knew he would have felt the same way even if they had been neighbours. 

"I never thought I'd hear those words come out of your mouth," his boyfriend said with a teasing smile. Daisuke made a face at him, sticking out his tongue and pulling down his eyelid. As much as he wanted to forget it, he would never live down his jealousy of Takeru or the ridiculous ways in which he had tried to show Hikari he was better than his love-rival. In his turn, Takeru had tried to be mature about it and tried to pretend that Daisuke's constant flirting with her didn't bother him, but there had been times when his temper had snapped. They had been a constant source of amusement for their friends through most of elementary school. Once Daisuke had started dating Ken, however, they had been able to put their antagonism aside. In time, they had even become friends. 

"It's been three months now, and he still hasn't come to grips with the fact that Hikari's gone and that he has to move on from it," Daisuke continued, "He's keeping to himself at school, and he hasn't spoken more than two words to any of us in weeks. And, this morning, he was late for school and then he was practically a zombie in class. The teacher had to ask him a question about five times before he answered it. I tried to speak to him after the lesson, and I could just see that he wanted to get rid of me as quickly as possible. I don't know. It's not healthy." 

"If it were me who had gone missing, how long would it take you to 'come to grips' with it?" Ken asked quietly. 

Daisuke flushed, looking ashamed. 

"I guess I wasn't thinking." 

"It's okay, Dai-chan," he smiled at him, "You know I love you." (1)

"Back at you, Ken-chan," his boyfriend leaned forward to kiss him softly, his lips barely brushing his own. Ken slid his arms around him, feeling the marvellous ridges of muscles in his back and shoulders, running a hand through his perspiration-damp hair. Their kiss intensified, feathery kisses slowing and deepening. He could taste the salt of sweat on his lips. He could feel the whisper of his breath against his skin. . . . 

Behind him, he heard someone clear their throat, and he immediately pulled back from Daisuke. He had thought both of their teams had changed and gone home long ago, or else he would have never risked kissing him. _To be caught like this! What must they be thinking of us?_ His cheeks felt warm, but only part of it was from embarrassment. 

Slowly, Ken turned his head to see Taichi looking at them with a knowing expression on his face. The older boy had a tog-bag slung over one shoulder, and was tossing a football between his hands. He was wearing his green-and-blue strip with a matching sweatband around his forehead. _Odaiba's senior team must have practice this afternoon. _

"Taichi, hi!" Daisuke said, rubbing the back of his neck, "We were just . . . talking." 

"I can see that," the older boy said wryly, before walking to one of the lockers and throwing his bag into it. It clanged against its metal back.

"About Takeru," Daisuke continued, oblivious to his sarcasm, "About how we're worried about him, because he isn't handling the whole losing Hikari thing well." 

Nudging him hard in the ribs, Ken shot Daisuke a warning glance. He loved Daisuke more than he could say, but his boyfriend was not the soul of tact. As all of them knew, Takeru hadn't been the only one who had lost somebody they loved when Hikari had run away from home. Taichi had also had to deal with the loss of his little sister, and all the Chosen Children knew how protective he had been about her. He would have rather lost his own arm or leg than Hikari.

"How do you expect him to handle it?" Taichi said coolly, "He cared a lot about her. _Some_ of us did." 

Daisuke evidently realised what he had said, because he turned crimson and stammered: "Taichi, I'm so sorry . . . I didn't mean to . . . ." 

"It's cool," he sighed, "At least you're not pussyfooting around me like everyone else is. The other day, my physics teacher was teaching us about light. At the end of the lesson, he called me up to his desk and said he hoped he hadn't been insensitive to my feelings," he shook his head, "I hadn't even thought about it, and that made me feel even worse. Because . . . why hadn't I been thinking about her? When the teacher was speaking about light, why didn't I think about my little sister? He must have said _hikari_ about fifty times in that lesson, and I didn't once think of my Hikari." 

Ken was embarrassed to see tears running down the older boy's cheeks. Somehow, they were the worse for being silent. There had to be something he could say or do to make him feel better. Then, it came to him. 

"You mustn't feel bad, Taichi," he said gently, "You have to let yourself heal sooner or later. You have to let go of the pain. I learnt that the hard way when I lost Osamu. I became the Kaizer, because I couldn't get over his death. I was so desperate to bring him back that I lost sight of who _I_ was."

Taichi stared at him for a long moment, his hands clenching into fists at his sides as if to hit him. Ken met his gaze steadily. He could understand the other boy's anger. Grief and memories were all he had left of Hikari, and he was asking him to give up one of them. If Taichi let his pain go, it would be like he was letting her go all over again. And he was wondering what right he had to ask him to do that. Ken understood, because he still went through that every morning when he woke up and saw his brother's empty bed. 

"You're right," Taichi said eventually, wiping his eyes, "Thanks, Ken. I think I needed to hear that."

"So does Takeru," Daisuke chipped in.

"Daisuke," the eldest boy laughed weakly, "You're like a guitar with one string. If it'll keep you quiet, though, I'll go around to his apartment tomorrow and speak to him." 

----------------

LANGUAGE NOTES:

(1) - chan is the most intimate suffix, used by close families and friends. It is also used for and by young children. Generally, people go from -chan to -san on entering high school. Boys, however, pass through a stage where -kun is attached to their names. Honestly, I don't know why textbooks say suffixes are so difficult. 

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Want to see a magic trick? Push the review button and watch a box appear! Wizardmon couldn't do better. ^.^ 


	13. A Love Song

_If Digimon belonged to me, Takeru would never have been jogress partners with Iori. That was an abomination before the gods. Who 'ship Takari, of course._

_Thanks to **Wolfie and ****Arylwren for their beta'ing. They suffered through the unreadable stuff, so that you didn't have to do so. They should get medals for bravery.**_

_For those who don't wish to reread previous chapters, here's a brief summary:_

_Dagomon has managed to lure Hikari into his underwater kingdom and cause her to lose her memory. She believes that she is a girl named Umi who is betrothed to him and who is destined to become future queen of his land. To add to the confusion, she further believes him to be Takeru, although he is nothing like Takaishi Takeru in appearance or personality. This deception was necessitated by the fact that his realm was dying along with his old queen and he needed her to be his new bride. Now read on . . . . _

**A STORM OVER BLOSSOMS__**

**CHAPTER 12**

**A LOVE SONG **

"Welcome to the Great Hall of Y'ha-nthlei," Takeru said as he pushed open the huge double-doors that led into the room. Umi felt her breath still in her throat when she saw what lay behind them. The Great Hall more than justified its descriptions. The walls were richly red and broken by high, white arches that looked almost like rib-bones. Here and there, translucent banners hung from the ceiling in shades of crimson, and created private alcoves in which lovers could meet. The polished floor glimmered like mother-of-pearl, and the air seemed to glow with phosphorescence. Even in her expensive, silken _kimono, she felt very plain and small. _

"It's amazing," she breathed, walking into the room and looking around herself. From the inside, it seemed even larger and grander. Takeru followed her, his long robes whispering against the ground. 

"I am glad you like it, Umi." 

She turned to smile at him, but her expression changed to one of concern when she saw the trail of blood, bright against the pearl-white floor. It led out of the room and into the corridor, following the exact path they had taken from her room to the Great Hall. Despite being slightly smudged by his robes, each mark was still easily recognisable as a footprint - Takeru's footprint. 

"Your feet are bleeding," she exclaimed, hurrying towards him and bending down to take a closer look at them. 

"I cut them on the rocks yesterday, but my physician said I should keep on them to prevent them from stiffening too much," he replied, "There is nothing about which to be worried." 

"Still, let me take a look," she insisted. 

As she lifted the edge of his robes, however, the grey mists over her memory seemed to part. . . . 

_. . . . She is kneeling on the rough tarmac to inspect Takeru's left ankle. Above his trainer, his blue sock is soaked purple with blood. She peels it away and winces to see a nasty scrape from where he had fallen._

_"I'll get a bandage from home." _

_"You're worse than my mom, Hikari," he grumbles. He's bouncing a basketball next to him, obviously bored. She doesn't know why he's so desperate to get back to their game. He's only beating her by about twenty points. Boys, she thinks, they're all the same.  _

_"Poor Takeru-chan. Do you want me to kiss it better?" she teases in her best imitation of Natsuko's voice, and looks up to see . . . ._

. . . . She thumped the floor in frustration with her hand, as the mists closed and hid his face from her. 

"What's wrong, Umi?" Takeru knelt down beside her, a concerned look in his grey eyes. She frowned back at him. She couldn't see this cool, elegant boy dressed in trainers and beating her in games of one-on-one, but there was something about what he had said that worried her more than those incongruities. 

"Umi," she repeated, "Why did you used to call me 'Hikari', if my name is Umi?" 

An odd, fearful look passed across his face before he smiled smoothly at her, "Because your radiant beauty outshines even the light itself, Umi." 

He stretched out a hand to help her to her feet, but she hesitated to take it. As plausible as the explanation sounded, she was not entirely convinced by it. Perhaps it was the momentary expression of fear that had been on Takeru's face; perhaps it was the fact that she had seen herself in the water-mirror and she knew she wasn't beautiful; perhaps it was that Hikari sounded _right in a way that Umi did not. _

However, beyond that, she had no proof for her suspicions. Takeru had treated her with nothing but kindness, respect and love. He had ordered his servants to fetch beautiful _kimono for her, and to cook her exquisite suppers. He had given her a queen's trousseau in strings of black pearls and strange, golden jewellry that managed to fascinate and repulse her at the same time. And he had been endlessly patient with all her questions about who she was and how she had come to lose her memory. _

Apparently, he had told her, they had been swimming together in the ocean that surrounded Y'ha-nthlei when she had swallowed a kind of seaweed that induced both amnesia and sleep in the person who ate it. He had pulled her unconscious body out of the sea before she had drowned, and had nursed her for the weeks it had taken her to wake. He had been so worried about her, and so glad when she had regained consciousness. In time, he had added, her memory would return, but she should not try and force it. It all made sense on the surface, yet . . . . 

She pushed the thoughts away from herself. She was Umi, Y'ha-nthlei was her home, and the man looking down at her with worry in his eyes was going to be her husband. There was nothing sinister about her situation, except what her overactive imagination kept on conjuring up for her. 

"Umi?" Takeru prompted. 

"I'm sorry," she smiled up at him, placing her hand in his and allowing herself to be pulled to her feet, "I was feeling a bit disorientated, but I'm okay now." 

"Are you feeling well enough to dance?" he asked. 

"But there's no music."

"I can arrange that," he said, then lifted his hand and spoke a few rapid words in the liquid language of the kingdom. They had barely left his mouth when the great hall was filled with the wild, sweet music of the sea. Its notes were the trill of whale-song and the high, lonely cry of the seabirds. There were other sounds that she could not identify, but that sounded so ancient that she thought they must have dated from a time before life had crawled out of the oceans. Beneath it all, she could hear the shushing of waves against the shore. 

Delighted, her doubts forgotten for a moment, Umi looked around herself. She could not see any musicians, and she doubted this place was wired for sound. Then she realised that the ocean song was coming from the walls themselves, which were thrumming like the strings of a harp. The long, redly transparent banners hanging from them quivered. Suddenly, she understood the reason behind the oddly organic nature of her surroundings. More than a kingdom, Y'ha-nthlei was a living creature, and it was singing. 

"It's alive!" she turned to Takeru in surprise. He had a smile on his own face, evidently pleased to see her happy. 

"Yes, it is," he cupped her cheek with a cool hand, "And it sings my love song to you, Umi-chan." 

Looking up at him, Hikari knew that he was going to kiss her. He bent to her, and she could feel his breath warm against her face. This close, he smelt of salt and sea. She wanted to lift her face to him and meet his lips with her own, but some instinct made her turn away from him at the last moment. His lips grazed her hair, like an ocean breeze. 

"I'm sorry . . . ." she stared at the floor, unable to look at him, "It's too soon . . . . Can I just go back to my room?" 

"Of course," Takeru's voice was gentle, and she felt him put an arm around her shoulder, "It will take time, my Umi, but you will remember your love for me. I can promise you that." 

And, if it sounded as if there were a sinister tone in his last words, she put it down to her imagination.

*

Sitting on his throne, Dagomon turned the clamshell that contained her memories over and over in his hand. Disturbingly, there was a hairline crack on one side of it. It had not been there that morning, which meant it must have been formed during his tryst with his future queen. She had remembered her real name, so had she found a way of breaking the shell and counteracting his spell? Was it only a matter of time before she remembered she was the Shining One and destroyed him as only she had the power to do? Doubt was not a familiar emotion to him, nor was it a pleasant one. His hand clenched around the fragile shell. He had been so sure that this plan would work. 

He knew his first attempt at possessing the Shining One had been clumsy. Sensing she was vulnerable, he had sent his Deep Ones to bring her to him. In return for her hand in marriage, he would offer her power and immortality. He knew now he would have failed, even if the Child of the Starlight and their Digimon had not intervened on her behalf. Her spirit was too pure to be corrupted by such offers. She would have rejected him along with them, and she had to accept him as her lord and love of her own free will. Submission could be compelled, but love could not. 

Nonetheless, clumsy though his initial plan had been, it had inspired this more elegant scheme. No one should have been able to come to his realm uninvited, but the Child of the Starlight had managed to do so. He had managed to reach across both time and space to come to come to the aid of the Shining One. It had taken Dagomon a long time and much thought to unravel that mystery. At first, he had thought that it was because they were both beneath the protection of Seiryuu, and that it had been that god's intervention that had made it possible. However, if Seiryuu had known about his plans for one of his special children, the Blue Dragon of the East would have done a great deal more than simply send the Child of the Starlight to save her. It had to be something else. It had to be a bond that was stronger than space or distance that had connected them across the worlds.  The answer had come to Dagomon in all its simplicity and clarity: they loved each other. He could use that love against them. 

Now, he was beginning to see that her love for the Child of Starlight was too great for even his magicks or powers to repress or corrupt. It was only a matter of time before it freed her from his enchantment. 

"I must finish this quickly," he told Demon who was kneeling silently beside his throne, "But how can I compel her to love me? It cannot be forced any more than the sea can be forced to change its tides." 

"And are you a god of love that you need to be loved?" there was a nasty note in Demon's voice, "Or are you a god of something different yet the same?"

Looking at his servant with an emotion that was almost hope, "Of course!" 

* 

To be continued . . . . 


	14. The Book of Revelations

_If the characters belonged to me, Takeru would be a lot more depressed. ^.~ _

_*****_

**A STORM OVER BLOSSOMS**

**CHAPTER 13**

**THE BOOK OF REVELATIONS**

Standing in front of the Takaishi's door, Taichi checked his watch. It would be a few hours before his mother's tranquiliser wore off, and she needed him again. He was afraid to leave her alone for too long. The previous day, he had come back from soccer practice to find her crying over a bottle of broken perfume. The air in the apartment had been heavy with its sweet, musky fragrance. She had evidently tried to put together the shards of glass, because her hands had been bleeding. As he had entered her room, she had looked up at him and had asked him where the sunlight had gone. Helpless, he had not known what to say, other than that it would be back again in the morning. Then, she had smiled a strange, insane smile and had replied that she knew Hikari would be coming home soon. 

Not for the first time, anger towards his sister rose hot and quick in Taichi's chest. How could Hikari have been so selfish? How could she have run away without a second thought for the people she would hurt by leaving behind? His father was staying out later and drinking more every night. His mother was suffering a nervous breakdown. Takeru was shutting out all of his other friends. And it had fallen to him to put aside his own pain and deal with everyone else's. 

Sighing, he pressed the doorbell. A tinny chime echoed from within the Takaishi's apartment, and the door opened a few moments later to reveal Natsuko. She had evidently been working on an article, because a pencil was balanced behind her ear and another was stuck in her brown hair. 

"Taichi," the familiar look of sympathy came to her eyes when she saw him, "I haven't seen you for a long time." 

He gave her a sheepish smile in return, "Yeah. Is Takeru home?" 

"He's in his bedroom working," she stepped aside to let him into the apartment, "Please go through." 

"Thanks," Taichi walked down the hallway towards Takeru's room. Through the doorway, he could see him sitting at his desk and chewing thoughtfully on a yellow pencil. There was something different about him, something about the way he held his head and his shoulders, which Taichi could not quite pinpoint. Papers and books were spread in front of him, while still others were piled around him on the floor. It looked more like Jyou's room before a major exam than Takeru's, he thought in surprise. Daisuke had been right when he had said the younger boy needed help. 

"Hey, kiddo," he greeted, stepping over the pile of maths' books that were blocking the doorway. 

"Taichi? Have you. . . ." Takeru sat up straighter, the hope in his eyes painful to see, then he slumped back into the chair, "No, of course you haven't." 

Resting his hands on his knees, Taichi sat on the bed and looked at the younger boy. It was not hard to guess the remainder of the question that Takeru had been about to ask, or why he had cut himself short. 

"So, how have you been? None of us have seen much of you lately." 

"I've been busy," he replied with a tight smile, "Basketball season is coming up, and coach seems to think we won't be ready unless we practise 24/7. Sometimes it feels more like I'm in an army troop than a sport's team." 

"You haven't been avoiding us?" Taichi asked bluntly. 

His expression was almost too innocent, "Why would I be avoiding you?" 

"Because of Hikari." 

Just saying her name was painful, but Taichi forced himself to do it. He looked at the younger boy for a reaction, but found none. Takeru's eyes were dead, and, when he replied, it was in an even voice, "It's been three months, Taichi. I know she's not coming back and it's time to move on, if that's what you're trying to say." 

"Which was why your first question was whether we'd found her or not," he leaned forward to stare the younger boy in the eyes, "There's nothing wrong with still loving her, you know. I know I haven't stopped." 

"Then, I guess I'm lucky," Takeru said coolly, folding his arms across his chest, "Because I never did." 

Watching him, Taichi realised that Takeru had more in common with Yamato than he had ever imagined. He had always thought that the two brothers could not have been more different. Yamato might have been closed and secretive at times, he had thought, but Takeru was as simple as sunshine. He wasn't capable of hiding anything. His clear, blue eyes revealed every emotion. When he was happy, they shone with it. When he was angry, they darkened like the sky before a storm. Taichi had just had to look at him to know what he was thinking or how he was feeling. Now, he couldn't read him at all, and he was beginning to see that Takeru's similarities to Yamato didn't begin and end with his looks. 

He sighed. Sometimes there was only one way to knock sense into an Ishida's thick skull. . . . 

Gathering up all his strength, he punched Takeru squarely in the face. The chair rocked backwards, but did not fall. The younger boy looked at him in horror, clutching his cheek. Taichi could see a red blotch spreading between his fingers. His treacherous memory threw up the image of Hikari with a slap-mark on her face, glaring at their mother and yelling at her that she had wasted her life.

"What was that for, Taichi?" he sounded more shocked than angry.

"For being an ass and lying to me," he replied, shaking his sore hand, "And for reminding me of your brother." 

"I thought you liked Yamato," Takeru grumbled, getting to his feet. He walked to his mirror and squinted into it, touching his swollen cheekbone with his fingertips, "Urgh. You do know I've got a big game this weekend and need to see out of both eyes?" 

Taichi ignored the second comment, "Yeah, but that doesn't mean the world needs two of him. And the punch was mainly for lying to me about Hikari." 

"I guess I deserved it," he said quietly, looking down at his shoes, "But it doesn't matter how I felt about her, because she didn't . . . well, she didn't." 

"Don't be so sure," he reached into his pocket and pulled out Hikari's little diary. It had a picture of a white kitten on the cover, over which her name was written in pink, sparkly ink. She'd drawn an arrow to the kitten, which she had labelled 'Tailmon.'  Just looking at it made Taichi's chest tighten in pain. Telling himself he had to be strong, he flipped through it in search of the entry he had seen on that awful day when he had woken up to find her missing. He cleared his throat, "_The other day, I was sitting in the stands watching our team play basketball. . . ."_

"Taichi!" Takeru interrupted, "That's her diary, isn't it? It's private. I shouldn't be reading what she wrote in it." 

"Then it's a good thing I'm reading it to you, because you need to hear this," he said, his firm tone belying the fact that he had spent the previous night lying awake and wondering whether or not to share his sister's diary with the boy she had loved, "_The other day, I was sitting in the stands watching our team play basketball. Okay, I guess I have to be honest with you, diary, if nobody else. I was watching Takeru__ play basketball, because I hate the sport but like my best friend. Anyway, I've forgotten the exact score, but they were a basket behind or something with a few seconds to go and the other team had the ball. Out of nowhere, Takeru snatches the ball, dribbles it just past the halfway line (dribble is such a stupid word, isn't it?), and makes a perfect jumpshot from there. The ball swishes through the net. Odaiba wins the match in the last seconds. But 'our conquering captain' (as the school newspaper put it! Ai is always so melodramatic!) doesn't look at his coach; he doesn't look at the team; he looks at me and he grins. And I felt something shift inside me, like everything I knew about our friendship was wrong and like there was something bigger and better and scarier waiting for me if I would just go up to him and take his hand. (Sorry, Ai, I can also be pretty melodramatic.) So, does this mean I'm falling in love with him?" _

Taichi choked to a halt, hot tears coming to his eyes. He had been at that match with Hikari, and could see in his mind's eye the way she had looked that day. Her hair had been pulled into two, little plaits, tied at the end by ribbons in Odaiba's white-and-blue, and her cheeks had been painted in the same colours. She had been wearing his old soccer jacket, he remembered, because she didn't have any clothes to match. She had looked so happy and so carefree, like a girl who knew she was loved. Fiercely blinking back his tears, he looked at Takeru to judge his reaction.

The younger boy looked almost as stunned as he had on the day when he had heard Hikari was missing. His blue eyes were dark with shock, and his cheeks were flushed. Evidently not trusting his legs to support him, he walked over to the bed and sat down heavily on it, his hands on his knees. 

When he spoke, his voice was an agonised whisper, "If she loved me, why did she leave me alone?" 

"There was a lot of stuff going on in her life," Taichi sat next to him and put an arm around his shoulders, "Mom was putting pressure on her about . . . about everything. Her schoolwork, the entrance exams for the private school, her friends, her relationship with you . . . . I guess it got too much in the end. I guess she thought the only way to deal with it was to run away from it, if she was thinking at all." 

Hesitantly, as if afraid to ask, "What does her diary say about that?" 

Placing the book between them, Taichi flipped through the remainder of the entries until he came to the last two pages, on which she had written the characters for 'Dark Ocean' over and over again in watery, grey ink. They still sent a little thrill of fear down his spine. He couldn't imagine what Hikari's state of mind must have been for her to write something like that. He looked up at Takeru and saw his fear mirrored on the younger boy's face, "That's why I came to your apartment that day. I thought she was in the Dark Ocean and you could take me to her, but . . ." he shrugged, pretending a nonchalance he did not feel, "As I said, there was a lot of stuff going on in her life and she couldn't take it. Maybe she felt like the Dark Ocean was going to swallow her up again, and ran because of that." 

Takeru was silent, tracing the characters on the page with a forefinger. He had a perplexed expression on his face, like a child trying to make sense of a puzzle. His lips moved slightly, but Taichi could not make out what he was mouthing to himself. 

"Takeru," Taichi said in a firm voice, worried about him, "Hikari's not in the Dark Ocean. We checked every inch of it, and there were no signs of her." 

"I won't let you go," he whispered, looking up at him in sudden horror, "Taichi, I remember now. I don't know how I could have forgotten it. I guess I thought it was my fever or something. She came to me the night she vanished. She was wearing a white nightdress, but its hem was wet and it had sand around its edges. And she was . . . rippling, like water in the sunlight. I don't know how else to put it. She said the Deep Ones were taking her, she said she didn't have the strength to fight them and she needed my help. She gave me her hands and I tried to hold onto her, but I couldn't. I couldn't, and she slipped away from me. It's all my fault, Taichi, because I also was too weak. I'm sorry, Taichi, I'm so sorry." 

Takeru was crying in a way he had not seen him cry since he was eight; loud, painful sobs that shook his whole body. Taichi took a deep breath. He wanted so much to accept that Takeru's story was true, that he had seen Hikari and she was in the Dark Ocean. As bad as that place sounded, it was better than her being alone in some strange city doing heaven knew what to keep body and soul together. He could go there and save her, and everything would be normal again. Even after their unsucessful sortie into the Dark Ocean, it had taken him a long time to let go of the hope that she might be there, and he could not afford to cling onto it again. He had to move on with his life, and that meant letting go of his illusions. 

Taichi put his hands on the younger boy's shoulders and turned him to face him, staring him directly in the eyes, "Takeru. You were sick that night. Your mom said your fever was off the charts. It was just an hallucination. I know that because we checked everywhere the Dark Ocean, and Hikari wasn't there. She wasn't there." 

Sniffing, "No, we didn't. We didn't check underneath it." 

*

In deep Y'ha-nthlei, Umi lay asleep, dreaming of a boy with blue eyes . . . . 

*

TO BE CONTINUED

*   
This concludes the second movement of the story. We now move into the third and penultimate movement. Your thoughts and criticisms on the narrative up to this point would be gratefully welcomed. (Gak. How English Major do I sound there?) 


	15. Interlude 2: Blind Samson

**A STORM OVER BLOSSOMS**

**INTERLUDE 2**

**BLIND SAMSON**

_(Adapted from Judges 13-16)_

Blind Samson can hear the laughter of the crowd as he is led from prison. His hands are bound - the hands that had torn apart a young lion; the hands that had caught and set alight three hundred foxes; the hands that had killed thousands of men with the jawbone of a donkey; the hands that had touched Delilah's warm skin. He cannot find it in himself to hate her for her many quiet betrayals: for sharing his secret with her countrypeople, for holding his head in her lap while its seven locks were shaved, for watching impassively while they gouged out his eyes. His blood dries on his cheeks, and is a salty, metallic tang in his mouth. He is too tired, too hopeless, too much of a failure to wish a personal revenge on her. 

Out of the crowd, when he is seen, a single voice is raised in a cry: "Let Samson entertain us! Make him entertain us before he is sacrificed to our god, to great Dagon, who has delivered the ravager of our country into our hands." 

Others are joined to it, clamouring for the same request to be granted, demanding that he entertain them. He does not care. He will do what they wish. He will sing for them. He will tell them riddles. He will dance for them like a slave-girl. 

"Make him stand between those pillars," a person shouts from the crowd, "Make him stand where we all can see him." 

A strong hand closes around his wrist, and blind Samson feels himself being dragged up the steps of a house. He stumbles, he trips, but he does not fall. He is spared that little humiliation at least. With a final tug from his attendant, he is standing on the top step in front of all the mocking Philistines, the laughing lords and ladies, the priests sharpening their blades for the sacrifice. And peace passes over him, like a cool river, and he knows what he needs to do. For the first time, his path is clear. His life has been a failure, but his death can be different.

His voice dry as dust, he rasps to his attendant, "Let me feel the pillars on which the house rests, so that I may lean against them." 

He can almost feel the attendant shrug, unable to see the harm in granting such a small request. One hand and then the other is placed against cool, rounded stone. 

Lifting his blind eyes to heaven, Samson calls on the Lord whom he has never served as well as he should, whom he betrayed in wine and honey: "Lord God, remember me and strengthen me only this once, O God, so that with this one act of revenge I may pay back the Philistines for my two eyes." 

His hands tighten around the curved surface, now warmed by his skin. He leans his weight against them, and pushes with all his strength. 

In an anguished whisper, "Lord God, let me die with the Philistines." 

He strains with all his might, and feels the stone pillars begin to crumble beneath his hands. The house begins to tremble, as the supporting pillars give way beneath his pressure. Around him, he can hear people begin to scream warnings to the hundreds inside and the thousands on the rooftop, but it is too late. It is all too late. In a rush of stone and dust and people, the house collapses on Samson. 

He judged Israel for only twenty years. 

------------------

_Obviously, I've made very passing references to a number of events in Samson's biography, because I wanted to focus on the final moment. If you're curious about the details or if you simply want a fascinating story to pass the time, I really do recommend reading Judges 13-16. The Bible is full of these amazing, rich stories, and the tale of Samson is one of the most powerful. As my own pastor says, we can get so caught up in meanings and moral teachings that we forget what genuinely good storytelling is in the Bible. Not the former aspects are unimportant, of course! _

_As to the Dagon part, I would never presume to include anything in a retelling of a Biblical story that was not there originally. Judges 16:23 reads:_

Now the lords of the Philistines gathered to offer a great sacrifice to their god Dagon, and to rejoice; for they said, "Our god has given Samson our enemy into our hand."


	16. Umi Dreams

If I owned Digimon, Boring Iori wouldn't exist, so, for his sake, it's good I don't. ^.~

Seiryuu, as described in this passage, is the property of Watase Yuu, the amazing and talented creator of _Fushigi Yuugi. Similarly, the means of invoking him is her invention as well. Hey, good writers innovate, but lazy ones steal. ^.~_

Oh, pictures of Seiryuu in his human-form can be found at:

1) http://www.geocities.com/neko_kami_1922/Seriyuu_seishi.html

2) http://members.tripod.com/~TheFourGods/8-98-4gods.html

Thanks to Keri for finding these for me. 

It has been a while since I updated this story, hasn't it? I've been slightly obsessed with getting _Dancing finished. I've also been busy at University - I'm not exaggerating when I say I've written fifty pages of various essays for my classes. Still, you do have my apologies. I hope this chapter has been worth the wait. Feel free to yell at me, if it isn't. _

Thanks to my betas as always. They stop me from looking stupid, and that's always a good thing! 

***

**A STORM OVER BLOSSOMS**

**CHAPTER 14**

**'UMI DREAMS'**

Sitting on the edge of her bed, Umi removed the heavy tiara from her head with a sigh of relief and set it on the pearl-topped table beside her. Wrought out of gold and set with black pearls, there was something almost obscene about its ornate, elongated design. It looked like a hundred tentacles rising and writhing from the ocean. She was glad to have it off her, and not only because it weighed a ton. She rolled her head from side to side to work the stiffness out of her neck. 

Getting to her feet, she slipped the elaborate _kimono off her shoulders and it slithered to the floor in a pink and green shimmer. She picked up a __nemaki from where it had been laid out for her on the bed, slipped it over her arms and tied it around her waist. Every morning and every evening, she found clean clothes waiting for her, although she never saw any servants placing them there. She had mentioned that to Takeru over their dinner together that night, and he had only laughed and replied that the best servants were those that one did not notice.  _

She shivered. There had been something strange about her fiance that evening. The whole time they had been eating, he had watched her across the table with a burning look in his grey eyes. Beneath his gaze, she had felt very naked and vulnerable, as if he could see through the multiple layers of her clothing to the skin beneath it. And his hand had lingered on her forearm a moment too long when she had said good night to him. With another shudder, she rubbed the place where he had touched her. He surely wasn't wanting  . . . He surely wouldn't . . . . 

Her eyes went to the door. Takeru always locked it behind her, saying that dangerous creatures roamed the halls of Y'ha-nthlei and that she should not venture from her room by herself. But it would not protect her from him. He had the key. He could unlock the door and slip into her room and there would be no one to stop him doing what he liked to her, including. . . . Umi felt her stomach turn at the thought. She loved Takeru, she truly did, but she wasn't ready to have that sort of relationship with anybody. 

"There has to be some way of keeping him out . . . ." she whispered, looking around herself. Her eyes settled on the sea-chest in the corner of the room, which she had often used as a seat. Its lid had been rusted permanently shut by the sea, and as a result all she knew about its contents were that they were heavy. She had tried shifting it once, and had almost broken her arms dragging it a few inches. In the end, Takeru had had to help her. Her mouth set in a determined line - there was no asking him now, so she would have to find the strength to do it herself. 

Spitting on her hands and rubbing them together, Umi squared up to the chest. She grunted as she pushed against it with all her strength - it was even heavier than she remembered. It slid a bare few inches across the polished floor with a screech of protest. She felt her heart leap into her throat, and hoped desperately that none of Takeru's servants had heard the noise. When no one came after about a minute, she relaxed slightly and made a second attempt at pushing the chest across the room. This time, it seemed to move even less distance and to make even more noise. She sighed in despair: this was impossible. 

"You're being ridiculous," she told herself, "Takeru's treated you with nothing but respect and kindness. He loves you. That's the one thing you do remember. He's not suddenly going to come into your room and . . . ." she shivered, "But I know I didn't imagine that look." 

With new resolve, she bent to her task again. 

After what felt like hours of slow, painful labour, she shoved the chest into position. She straightened, putting a hand to her aching back to ease it and looking at her handiwork. It might not keep him out of her room completely, but it would certainly slow him down and give her advance warning of his intentions. She looked around the room for a weapon, and settled on another of the jade figurines. This one was an elaborately carved dragon, and the weight of its slender coils felt reassuringly heavy in her hands. It felt like safety. She would not be defenceless, if he tried to surprise her during the night. 

Gripping it tightly in her hand, she climbed onto the bed and curled up in a tight ball. She wished she had a sheet or a canopy to pull around her, to hide her from him. Despite all her precautions, she felt very vulnerable. Even if she did manage to fight off Takeru, where could she run? Where could she hide? She might be safe for a little while, but he would eventually find her and then the inevitable would happen. Worse, she might have to return to him, if she was not able to scavenge food or fresh water for herself. She might have to submit to what he wanted in order to survive. . . .  

With those and other bleak thoughts in mind, it was a long time before she fell into a light and dream-troubled sleep. 

***

Her feet washed by grey water, Umi walks along the white sand of a beach. She is dressed in a grey kimono, patterned with colourless cherry-blossoms, and its hem is wet with surf. The water creeps up the silk of the robe, darkening the fabric as it does so. Self-consciously, she lifts it a few inches above the waves. In the entire landscape, there is no sign of colour. On the horizon, a shoal of black rocks curve away from the shore, from the end of which a slender, dark needle thrusts upwards into the grey sky. She can see tiny figures kneeling around it and lifting their hands to it. They are chanting too, but their voices are swept away by the sea wind and she cannot hear the words. She is glad for that: the little she can hear of it sounds profane. It sends shivers down the back of her neck. 

Wanting to put as much distance between herself and the strange worshippers as she possibly can, she turns away from the sea and walks up the beach towards the town built beside the shore. By look of its houses, it clearly has been abandoned for many years. Paint flakes off their walls and fences, their roofs sag, and their windows are broken. Their gardens are overgrown with scrubby dune grass and spindly trees. 

She has just started up the street that leads up from the shore, when she sees something move out of the corner of her eye. Her muscles stiffen as she turns to face it, but she relaxes when she sees it is just a white cat. She wonders what it is doing in this strange, abandoned city. There can be little food or warmth to be found in it. Maybe it is a pet that was left behind when its owners moved away and that now survives on what it can scavenge. All the same, she finds its presence reassuring, if only because it means she is no longer completely alone. 

The cat leaps up onto the wall and tilts its head to look at her. It is an oddly intelligent gesture, and it seems almost as if it is expecting something from her. She notices that its eyes are as brightly blue as gems - the only colour in the monochrome landscape. 

"Who are you?" it asks. 

Umi stares at it, not as astonished as she might otherwise be. With its weird lack of colour and obscene acolytes, this entire place is so bizarre that a talking cat does not seem out of place. At last, she replies haltingly: "I'm . . .I'm Umi." 

The cat shakes its head and repeats its question, "Who are you?" 

"I told you. I'm Umi." 

"Who are you?" 

"Are you deaf? I'm . . . ." she begins in annoyance at the cat's obtuseness, then pauses, remembering another name she once was called, "Hikari . . . I'm Hikari?" 

With a satisfied swish of its tail, the cat jumps lightly off its perch and scampers deeper into the town. 

"Wait!" she yells and runs after it, not wanting to be left alone again. 

She chases it down twisting streets and narrow alleyways, between houses and through gardens, little caring that she will not be able to retrace her way back to the shore. At last, the cat pauses in the front garden of a house and glances up at her expectantly. 

Breathing heavily, Hikari walks closer and peers through the window. Inside, she can see a boy standing in the middle of an empty room. With his golden hair and flushed skin, he stands out against the grey landscape like a sunny day in a week of rain. His eyes are closed, but tears trickle out from under his lids. They slide slow and silver down his cheeks. As each of them hits the floor, however, it turns to glass and shatters. The room is full of glittering splinters.

"Who is he?" she asks the cat, "Why's he crying?" 

"He has a heart of glass," the cat replies, "And it is so fragile that every beat breaks it." 

"But who is he?"  
  


"He is you. And you are him."

Giving up on that line of questioning, "Can I talk to him?"

"If he remembers how to hear your voice." 

Impatient with the cat's riddling replies, Hikari raps on the window with her fist. The boy does not seem to hear her; his tears continue to fall and break around him. She knocks a little harder. This time, he notices her. He slowly turns to face the window, and opens shockingly blue eyes. They are the same brilliant colour as the sky after rain, and they widen when they see her standing there. He runs to the window, his lips moving in words she cannot hear, crushing splinters of glass under his feet.

An expression of amazement on his face, he presses his hands to the glass, and she lifts hers to touch them against his. She stares at him for a long time, trying to work out who he is, examining every feature of his face. The blond hair that feathers across his forehead. The small, white scar on his left cheek. The lips that look on the verge of a smile. He seems so familiar, as if the cat's words were true and he were a part of herself, but she has no name by which to know him. He is trying to say something to her, but she cannot hear him or read his lips. If only the glass between them would vanish, she thinks desperately, she'd be able to speak with him. . . .  

The thought has no sooner formed in her mind than the windowpane vanishes. Her cold palm presses against his warm one, and she feels his fingers tighten protectively around her hand. He smiles at her, astonished and delighted. Something inside her seems to twist, like she is falling from a great height and there are black rocks beneath her and his hand is the only small safety she can find. 

And she knows.

"Takeru?" she whispers in amazement, "You're Takeru?"  

He lifts his hand to her cheek, as if he can't believe she is real, "Hikari? You're back with me?" 

And everything is blue and she is floating. Desperately, she looks around herself for Takeru or the cat, but both of them are gone. She is alone in the middle of a vast and empty sea. She can see no island, beach or ship on the horizon, and she knows that she may be thousands of miles away from any other humans or any hope of rescue. The water supports her weight without her needing to tread water or swim, but she is still afraid. Hot tears rise to her eyes. 

"Why do you weep, Child of Sunlight?" a voice asks her, sending shudders down her spine. It is the most terrible voice she has ever heard. In it, there is a pitiless, merciless acceptance of the brutality of the world and of the inevitability of nature. People will go to war, animals will hunt and kill, nations will fall to dust and memory, and this voice knows it. 

Astonished and more than a little frightened, Hikari looks up to see a beautiful man standing on the ocean in front of her. His features are delicate and almost feminine.  His blue hair falls around his face as soft as sea-spray; his eyebrows are high and arched above wave-bright eyes; his purple ears are as pointed and scalloped as a shell. Somehow, though, his beauty makes him even more terrible. 

"Who are you?" she whispers.

"I am Seiryuu, the Blue Dragon of the East. My wing beat is war drums, my flame is the burning of conquered cities, my talons are sword and spear and arrow. I am god of flowering spring, god of flowing river and sea," he says in the same awful voice, "And you are my child, Child of Sunlight, and I shall come to you if you call me." 

Hikari stares up at him in disbelief. From her reflection in the water, she can tell she is only a young girl: how can she have the power to command a god, especially this one who seems so powerful and so pitiless? How can she have the ability to call him?

"How?" the question is barely audible. 

"There is a word that will summon me: _Kaijin. You need only to speak it, and I shall come to your aid._

"_Kaijin . . . ." she echoes, and the world goes blue again._

***

Her breath coming quickly, Umi sat up in bed and looked around herself. The room was dark and quiet, apart from the soft, sighing sound that she had come to realise was Y'ha-nthlei breathing. She was relieved to see the chest still stood in front of her door, unmoved. Takeru had not tried to enter her room while she had been asleep in order to take advantage of her. Maybe she had been worried about nothing . . . . 

She lay back against the pillows, breathing in the sweet scent of rotted silk and cloth. She tried to think back to the strange dream she had just had - she had the vague sense it had been important. However, like so many dreams, it had almost vanished completely on waking. She could remember bits of it, blurred and imprecise like something at the bottom of a stream. A monolith rising from the rocks. A cat that had tilted its head and looked at her. Blue eyes and the pressure of palms. A vast and empty sea. A beautiful man with a terrible voice. In fact, the only thing she could recollect clearly was a single word.

_Kaijin. _

***

TO BE CONTINUED!

***

Make my dreams come true, press the button to review! 


	17. Connections

If I owned Digimon Adventure, Takeru of the Cute Accent would have been delivering monologues every episode. As he didn't and you weren't painfully bored as a result, it's obvious I don't. ::smiles:: I also don't own Serial Experiments Lain, which is the property of Chiaki Konaka. He also wrote episode 13 of Digimon Adventure 02 and there are loads of parallels between the two shows – not the least of which is that Lein\Lain looks a lot like Hikari.

_Can I plug something shamelessly here? I'm working on an original novel, which is up in that section. It's called _A Story For Alice Grey_. It's in the same horror\fantasy genre as this piece, so, if you're enjoying this, you might want to check it out . . .? _

**A STORM OVER BLOSSOMS**

**CHAPTER 15**

**CONNECTIONS**

Closing the door quietly behind him, Taichi slumped against the wall and let out a deep breath. His mother was safely in bed for the night, having taken her little, white pill crushed in a glass of water. She had not seemed to taste the bitterness, obediently drinking it down before handing the empty glass back to him. It seemed like he lived his life by the medicine cabinet these days. A tranquiliser in the morning to keep her calm while he was at school. Another one when he returned home in the afternoon. A sleeping pill in the evening to get her through the night. And none of them helped even a thousandth as much as Hikari walking through the front door would. 

Not for the first time that evening, he wondered if Takeru really had seen his sister the night she had vanished. With all the strange things that had happened to them since they had met Koromon, Hikari's appearance in the Takaishi's apartment was not impossible. It was certainly no weirder than her glowing and rising in the air, and that had happened more than once. 

Besides, there had always been a bond between the two, younger children - a bond that went beyond friendship or love or even their crests. From what Yamato had told him about the first time his sister had gone to the Dark Ocean, Takeru had been the only one who had known what was happening. He had seen her vanishing in class, wavering like light on water. He had heard her calling him from the Dark Ocean, and had somehow been able to cross over to her. What if . . . .  

He clenched his fists at his side. No, he could not afford to allow himself to hope again. Hope was dangerous. Hope led his mother to seek peace at the bottom of a bottle of pills; hope led his father to order one more drink every night; hope led Takeru to become like Yamato at his most remote. The facts of the matter were plain, and they did not allow for hope. Takeru had been running a fever. They had searched the Dark Ocean without success, and there was no way she could be beneath the sea. Hikari was gone and she was never coming home. He had to put his life back together without her in it, no matter how difficult it might be. ****

Pushing himself off from the wall, Taichi walked down the hallway to the kitchen to make himself some supper. He grimaced when he opened the refrigerator and saw how empty it was. He really had to go shopping the next day, or they would have to start fighting Miko for her food. He took out a pot of instant _natto and an apple, before adding a carton of milk to his haul. It was more breakfast food, but it was that or the suspicious-looking, left-over pizza at the back. _

He had just put his meal on the table, when he heard a knock on the door. He made a face - it was probably his father coming home too drunk to unlock it for himself. A few months ago, he had sworn to Hiruko that he wouldn't drink anymore, but that promise had been forgotten on the evening Hikari had vanished. His father had come home stinking of _sake, tears streaming down his cheeks. He had spent the night weeping on the sofa with her picture in his hands._

"I'll be there in a sec," Taichi slid the bolt and unlatched the chain, before opening the door. He smiled in surprise when he saw Sora standing there with a covered dish in her hands. She was dressed casually in a pair of blue jeans and an orange vest, while her hair was pulled back off her face in a ponytail. However, he was ashamed to admit that it was the dish that held his attention after a week of convenience foods. The fragrant smell of lasagna rose from it, and his insides growled in response. 

Rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly, "My stomach and I say 'hi'." 

Sora laughed and stepped forward to kiss him softly on the lips, "Hi, Taichi. It looks like I came just in time. . . ." 

*

Standing in the middle of the flickering light, the girl stared without expression at the man who wanted to kill her. He held his gun with unsteady hands, and the red light of a laser-targeter flickered across the bridge of her nose. Her eyes were large and brown; her hair was cut in a chunky bob apart from a single strand that was marked with an X of elastic; her mouth did not even tremble. After what felt like hours, she spoke: "No matter where you go, people are connected." 

His eyes widened and tears began to trickle from his them, sliding down his cheeks. They were the eyes of a fanatic, wide and staring. The laser-light arced into the air, piercing the darkness and coming to shine inside his mouth. There was a flash of red, and blood splattered across her face. She stepped forward and looked down at him, like a pitiless god or an angel without mercy, and the screen faded to black. 

Picking up the remote from beside him, Takeru clicked off the television and got to his feet. He had been watching it without seeing it for hours now. His eyes were sore and itchy from hours of crying. It was strange, but he felt even more helpless and hopeless than he had before remembering Hikari's midnight visitation. He could recall every detail of it now - the stripe of light across the hallway; her white, wave-wet nightgown that sparkled with sand around its hem; her hands slipping through his; her scared, pale face as she faded from view - and was amazed that he had forgotten it. He might have been sick, but how could he have not remembered something so important? 

However, remembering what had happened to her had not made him feel any better. All kinds of terrible scenarios had passed through his head when he had thought of Hikari living alone in a strange city. The best was that she had been found by a good samaritan and was living in some sort of children's home. The worst . . . The worst had made him want to scream and punch something. He had read the papers and seen the news. He knew what homeless girls did for money, or what they had done to them by those who weren't prepared to pay for their kicks. If someone had done anything like that to Hikari, he would find them and make them regret every time they had touched her. Yet, all of those had been in his overactive imagination. They were no more real than that strange time a Bakumon had trapped him and his brother inside one of his dreams. (1)

However, if Hikari was in the Dark Ocean and he knew she was, she was in very real danger. He did not know the reason why the Dark Ocean's currents had pulled her into it again, but he knew it could not be a good one. Nothing about that place of shadow, mist and darkness could be good. What had happened three years ago had made that perfectly clear to him. 

After the control spire had been destroyed, he had landed on the beach with Pegasusmon and looked across to where Hikari was surrounded by strange, pale creatures that seemed half-frog and half-human. One of them had said something to her - its voice had been blown away by the wind and Takeru had not been able to hear the words - and stepped forward to grab her arm. Hikari had struggled and twisted to break loose, but had not been able to free herself from its grip. His stomach twisting in him, he had yelled at them to let her go and had run to help her, but Angewomon had intervened before he had reached them. The arrow of light had sizzled against the creature's arm. With a cry of pain, it had released Hikari, then, still staring at her, the creatures had receded down the shore and faded into the whispering ocean like mist at dawn. Hikari had refused to tell him much about what they had said to her, but there had been a hunted, fearful look in her eyes that had made him want to wrap his arms around her and let her know that she was safe. He had settled for the safer option of putting his hand on her shoulder, and had been rewarded by a little smile. 

This time, however, he had been too weak to save her and there was no Angewomon to chase away the monsters with her brilliant arrows. Worse still, there was no Angemon to fight his battles for him, to help him bring Hikari home. After they had thwarted Vandemon's latest attempt at plunging both worlds into darkness, the Digital Gate had shut and not opened again. It had been three years since he had last seen his partner, and he still missed him as much as he had on the day he had said goodbye to him. It seemed his life consisted of being ripped apart from the ones he loved. His father and brother, Patamon, Hikari. . . . 

He could see why Yamato had decided long ago that caring was dangerous, why he had isolated himself from everyone around him. Loneliness might hurt, but at least it was a choice you made. It was under your control. It wasn't a pain you woke up to one morning, after believing for years that everything was fine. It seemed impossible that just three months ago she had been chasing him through the park, laughing, trailing cherry-blossoms in her wake. It seemed impossible that his worst fear had been that she might not love him back, that her heart was fixed on somebody else. 

Now, she was in the Dark Ocean and he had the impossible task of bringing her home all by himself. None of the others would believe him. Taichi hadn't, and he had the most reason to want to believe him. Instead, he had put his hands on his shoulders, turned him to face him and spoken to him in the same tones as he had used when Takeru was eight and upset about something. But he wasn't eight anymore and he knew Hikari was in terrible danger. If he had to fight all those creatures himself to save her, he would. 

"No matter where you've gone, we're connected," he said in determination, "I'll get you back, Hikari. I'll get you back."

*

"There is no more time for these games," Dagomon said to Demon, as the other digimon entered his throne-room and prostrated himself on the floor in front of him. Still in the human form he had assumed to trick the girl, he was seated on his high throne of bone and coral. Bright blood marked the steps that led up to it, pooling around his feet. In his hand, he held a shimmering clamshell, and his grey eyes were troubled as he looked at it. 

"My lord?" Demon questioned. 

"See," Dagomon held out the shell to him. Demon rose to take it, and battled to hide his shock when he did. A network of cracks fanned out along one side of the shell; fine, black lines against the smooth surface. If they grew any longer or broader, the shell would shatter and then . . . .

"She will remember everything." 

"Yes," he replied, "Tonight, the Child of Light will be mine, whether she gives herself to me or not. And my kingdom will be reborn in our union."

*


	18. Shadow and Night

**A STORM OVER BLOSSOMS**

**CHAPTER 16**

** SHADOW AND NIGHT**

Umi lay awake beneath rotted, silk sheets and tried not to think that Takeru might be creeping to her room at that precise moment and that she had no way of keeping him out of it. She had not been able to barricade her door with the chest that night. She had woken to find it missing from her room, even though she had not heard the door opening or it being moved. In any case, it probably wouldn't have done her much good.

However, the jade figurine of the dragon made a little hollow beside her in her pillow, and she curled her fingers around it. Its cool solidity was reassuring, although she did not know if she would be able to wield it successfully. Physically, Takeru was much stronger and quicker than she was. She would have one blow and she would have to time it exactly right, or else he would wrestle it away from her. She would have no chance against him once that happened. And, when it came right down to it, would she even be able to bring it down on her fiancé's head? Would she be able to hurt or even kill the man she knew she loved, even if he did try to rape her? 

Untangling herself from the sheets, she got to her feet and walked to the basin in the corner of the room. She needed to splash her face and get a drink of water, if only because she knew she would go insane lying in bed and doing for a moment longer. There was nothing worse than waiting for something terrible to happen and knowing that she was powerless to prevent it. She could defend herself if and when Takeru finally made his move on her, but she could not stop him making it.

She had a sick feeling that he would choose tonight to act. For the first time since she had awoken from her long sleep, he had not been to see her that day. They would walk the corridors of Y'ha-nthlei together, or he would bring her rare and expensive gifts, or he would try to teach her a complicated game that used an ivory board and pegs. At the very least, he would eat dinner with her. Tonight, however, his same, strangely invisible servants had left a laden tray at her door with a knock. Yes, she thought, Takeru was planning something and she was afraid to find out what it was. ****

As she bent to splash her cheeks, she saw her reflection wavering in the surface of the water. It brought back memories that were so faint and strange that she was sure she had dreamt them. She had been floating in the middle of a vast, blue ocean. A man had been standing in front of her on the waves, as terrible as he was beautiful, and he had asked her why she was weeping. He had called her the Child of Sunlight too. That recollection brought back another one that was equally strange. This one was of a talking cat that had tilted its head and looked at her with gem-bright eyes. It had asked her who she was, and she had replied. . . . 

"Hikari. I'm Hikari," she finished in a whisper, "He lied to me. I'm not Umi. I'm Hikari. Takeru lied to me . . . unless he lied about who he was as well. Maybe he's not even Takeru. Maybe he's someone - something - else . . . ." 

Suddenly, she heard the sound of a key scraping in the lock. Time seemed to slow around her, as the door swung open and she saw Takeru - she didn't know what else to call him - silhouetted in it. She could hear her heart pounding in her ears, and her breath came too quickly. She felt like she was going to be sick. After hours of waiting and planning and fearing, the time had come and she was defenseless. Her jade dragon was only a few feet away from her on her bed, but it might have been a million miles away for all her chances of reaching it.

"You're look so pale and afraid, my love," his voice was caressing, and made her skin crawl, "You have nothing to fear from me. I love you. I'd never hurt you." 

"Then, don't do this," she knew no amount of pleading with him would change his mind, but it might buy her a bit of time to come up with another plan. She began inching away from him towards the wall on which all the objects were displayed. She could not get away from him, so she would have to try to fight him and she needed a weapon for that, "Please don't do this, Takeru." 

"I know you'll enjoy it. It may hurt a little at first, but you'll soon come to enjoy it," he took a step towards her, "I love you. You love me. What could be more natural than us expressing that love?" 

"Well, I know I have to consent," she spat, continuing to edge away from him, "Otherwise, you're a rapist." 

"And who will find me guilty?" a nasty smile curved his red lips, walking towards her, "This is my kingdom, Umi. I am judge and I am king and I am god. I make my own laws, and they are the laws of desire." 

"If you love me, you won't do this." 

"If you love me, you will." 

She had reached the wall. Behind her, her hand closed around the first object it found. Water-rotten wood splintered beneath her fingers, leaving her with a slimy handful of velvet, and she let out a little sob as she realised she had grabbed the music box. 

Before she could reach for something else, Takeru was upon her. His hands closed around her wrists and his legs pressed hard against hers, pinning her to the wall. Hot, acidic panic rose in her, and she tasted bile in her mouth. She was trapped. He had her trapped. He had her . . . . Breathing heavily, he bent to kiss her. She bit his bottom lip as hard as she could, and tasted brine instead of blood. She had no time to think of what they meant, as he gasped in pain, and pulled away from her slightly. She took the opportunity to free one of her legs and kick him hard in his stomach. He yelped, but he did not release his grip on her wrists for a second. 

"I wanted you to enjoy our first night together, but that is not necessary," he hissed, "I will take from you what I need, whether you consent to it or not, whether you enjoy it or not. And I will hurt you, if you do not comply with my wishes." 

As if she were no heavier than a rag-doll, he threw her across the room. She slammed into the table on which the basin was resting, sending it toppling. The bowl shattered, sending shards of porcelain and water flying. Bleeding, bruised, she tried to get herself upright so she could run away from him. Her feet couldn't find any purchase on the wet floor, however, and she slipped back to the ground. She could hear his footsteps drawing near to her, see the puddles water vibrating slightly as he walked. 

Helpless tears rose in her eyes and trickled down her cheeks, mixing with the bloody water on the floor. She had done her best and there was nothing more she could do. Maybe it would be best to give into him, to let him do what he wanted without resisting, to spare herself more suffering. It would be over in a matter of minutes, then he would be gone and she could think about escaping from him and his shipwrecked kingdom. ****

"You're not the real Takeru," she whispered as he came to stand above her, "The real Takeru would never do this to me. He'd stop you, if he were here."

"Do you want to know about your Takeru?" he bent over her, his teeth bared in a smile, "Your Takeru is a weak, scared, little boy who could never stop me without his Digimon. He could not defeat even one of my servants by himself. He does not deserve your love, your power, your radiance. You should be my queen by all rights," he grasped her robe and flipped her onto her back, before he moved to straddle her, "You will be." 

"NO! NO! NO!" she yelled, as he pushed her legs apart with his knees, "STOP IT! GET OFF ME! HELP ME! SAVE ME! TAKERU! TAKERU, PLEASE!" 

****

Sitting in the throne-room, Demon heard the clam-shell shatter. . . . 


	19. The Sound of Waves

_All the characters belong to Toei. If they were mine, there'd be an Adventure 04 by now. However, seeing as how much Frontier rocks, it's perhaps a good thing they actually do belong to Akiyoshi Hongo. ^.^_

_Thanks to all of you for your kind words and patience. I hope this chapter meets your (high) expectations._

**A STORM OVER BLOSSOMS**

**CHAPTER 19**

**THE SOUND OF WAVES**

"What game are you playing tonight, Takaishi, because it certainly isn't basketball!? Pick it up, or you're on the bench. I don't care if you're the captain or not," Mr Toriyama, the basketball coach, yelled, as yet another of Takeru's shots at hoop bounced off the backboard and was picked up by the other team. 

Takeru barely heard his angry words, mechanically turning and running to the other side of the court in pursuit. He leapt to intercept his opponent's shot, snatching the ball in midair and passing it off to one of his teammates. Watanabe dribbled it the length of the court, then finished the move with a perfect jumpshot. The crowd cheered, but he hardly noticed them either. 

"Much better, Takaishi! Good skills, Watanabe! Nice teamwork!" 

As he jogged back to take the ball, Takeru glanced up at the scoreboard. There were fifteen minutes to go, before the game was done and he could get out of there. Impatience rose in him. _I should be finding a way of getting Hikari back from the Dark Ocean, not playing a stupid, pointless game. But how can I even get to her, if she is underneath it?_ He had no more answers to those questions than he had had the previous night. 

Shaking his head to clear it, he passed the ball off to Tanaka, who dodged his defender to dribble it down the court. Takeru sprinted after them, hours of training obviating the need for conscious thought about what to do. Tanaka fired the ball across the court to him, but the boy marking Takeru stretched out an arm and snatched it out of the air with ease. Running it down the court, he popped it into the net for an easy two points. 

"Defence, Takaishi!" the coach called. 

His opposite number smirked at him, as he bounced the ball back to the centre of the court and took the pass. This time, it was Watanabe who intercepted it and threw it back to Takeru. Dribbling it quickly to the key, he leapt to take a shot at the basket. The ball rolled around the rim of the hoop, before dropping out of it. Fortunately, Tanaka was there to catch it, and popped it into the net for another two points. 

"Good catch, Tanaka! Shape up, Takaishi!" 

As he jogged back to the center of the court, Takeru looked across at the clock on the scoreboard again and wondered how fifteen minutes could pass so very slowly. 

***

Takeru rubbed his hair dry as he stepped out of the shower. The rest of the team had already left to celebrate their victory with a pizza, and the changing-rooms were empty. He had told them that he would catch up with them, but that he had some people to see before he did. It wasn't exactly a lie - the coach had wanted to speak to him about his miserable performance on the court that night - but it wasn't exactly the truth either. The truth was that he felt even less like celebrating than he had like playing. Getting off the court had done nothing to lessen his sense of restlessness. No matter where he was, he wasn't where he was supposed to be: at Hikari's side, protecting her from the monsters. 

Throwing his wet towel into his locker for the moment, he pulled on a clean, white t-shirt and a faded pair of jeans. He seated himself on the bench to put on his socks and shoes. He made a face as he picked up his sneakers and laced them onto his feet. If he didn't wash them before the next game, they'd come dangerously close to be being biological weapons. Finished dressing, he retrieved his towel and put it with his dirty kit in the bag. 

As he left the school, the sun was already sinking in the west, a circle of blood in a gold-streaked sky. He had meant to go to the celebration at the pizza place, as a good captain would, but found himself heading to the beach instead. At this time of day, it was peaceful and almost deserted. Boats drifted serenely beneath the arching bridge, their sails like the white wings of birds, and the only occasional car swished along the road that ran parallel to it. 

Sand crunching beneath his sneakers, he walked down to where the sea lapped against the shore. White foam swirled around his feet, water soaking coldly through his shoes and socks. He stared out across the grey and featureless expanse of water. As always, his thoughts returned to Yagami Hikari, fathoms deep and unreachable beneath the Dark Ocean. It had been here that he had been able to get to her last time. 

Although it had been almost three years since Dagomon's last attempt, he remembered the events of that day with perfect clarity. He had been looking for her at this exact place when she had suddenly appeared in the sky, arms outspread and a plea for help on her lips. Without a second thought, he had leapt to meet her, and had fallen for a thousand miles through light and noise and heat. Hikari had pulled him across to her with a force more irresistable than the tides.

"Hikari?" he called, his voice blown away by the salt-breeze, "Can you hear me? Hikari?" 

The only reply was the sound of waves. 

***

"Yes, Coach Toriyama, Takeru did make it safely home," Natsuko said into the telephone, "He was already asleep when I got back from the office, so I'm not sure why he wasn't at the team party afterwards. He told me this afternoon that he was going to go."

"Good to hear it, Ms Takaishi. I was just checking up on the kid," the man replied gruffly, "Tell him I'll see him at practice on Monday." 

"I do appreciate your concern, coach. Enjoy the rest of your weekend," Natsuko put down the receiver with a sigh. It looked like she wasn't the only one worried about her youngest son. Ever since Hikari had gone missing, it was like a stranger had taken Takeru's place. The sunny, friendly boy she had known had disappeared to be replaced by a loner who had withdrawn from anyone who cared about him. Maybe it was time to think about professional help, although she had always shrunk from the idea of a psychologist. She would talk to Takeru's father and see what he thought about it. 

Shaking her head, she walked to the door to her son's bedroom and opened it a fraction to check on him. He was sprawled across his bed, his one arm dangling over its side and the other wrapped around a fold of sheet. His forehead was creased and glistened with sweat, and he was muttering something to himself as if he were having a nightmare.

Feeling helpless, Natsuko crossed the room to his bedside and kissed him lightly on a flushed cheek, then whispered the same words that she had always used to say to him when he was a little child, "Dreams as sweet as you are, my Takeru." 

***

A strange, twisted castle rises up in the deeps, more like a shell than anything built of stone or rock. Its tip barely crests the waves, and white foam swirls around it. Sweet, wild music seems to come from it. One moment, it is the keening of the gulls; the next, a dolphin's fluid, tumbling laughter; the next, a low, clear note that echoes from the Jurassic; the next, the sound of waves hush all too silence.  

_Ssssssh. Speak not of what you do not understand._

He walks through the corridors, his footsteps sounding too loud to his own ears. The castle is as strange inside as it is outside, he thinks. Bleached ribs arch overhead him, and the walls glow the faint, phosphorescent green of the eye of the hunter.  In front of him, a white light wavers and he begins to run towards it. Distantly, the waves whisper caution. 

_Ssssssh. Tread not the halls of the dying god._

Panting, he reaches the light, but he is too late and it has faded to a red glow. He looks down to see that he is standing in blood. It soaks up his jeans, dying them crimson. In horror, he stumbles backwards, but he cannot ever escape the blood. It is scarlet-slick along almost the whole corridor now, shining in the pale light. Even the waves will not wash it clean. 

_Ssssssh. Question not the rituals of blood and pain. _

Suddenly, he sees a young girl lying in the middle of the blood, and he realises it is all spreading slowly out from her. He runs to help her, his feet slipping and splashing through the red liquid, but she is not injured. She is weeping, and all her tears are blood. When he gets near, she hides her face in her hands, as if ashamed that he see her. The waves try and murmur comfort.

_Ssssssh. Argue not against implacable destiny. _

"Hikari, is that you?" 

Surprised, she lifts her face to him and he gently wipes away the bloody tears with a corner of his shirt. She is very white and her eyes are swollen with weeping, but she is beautiful to him. She smiles up at him, and all the blood around them vanishes. 

"My Takeru." 

"I love you," he whispers, pulling her into his arms and burying his head into her hair, "I-love-you-I-love-you-I-love-you." 

"Love is a powerful weapon," a terrible, beautiful voice says, "But it is not mine." 

***

Breathing heavily, Takeru untangled himself from his sweaty sheets and sat upright in bed. He rubbed a hand across his eyes, then looked around his room. Filtering through his blinds, the moonlight formed pale stripes on the floor and washed everything grey. His books on his shelves, his posters on the wall, his photographs on his desk, everything was a colourless imitation of itself. _It felt so real, but it was all a dream. Even though I was so sure . . . . _

It was then that he realised he could still hear the sound of waves in the distance. The soft, sad sighing of water against the shore was unmistakable. His heart began to pound in his chest, as he climbed out of bed. _The Dark Ocean. It's near. _

"Hikari?" he called, "Hikari-chan! Can you hear me?" 

"TAKERU!" her agonised cry tore through the room, "TAKERU!" 

He froze, unable to move or think. For three months, he had heard her voice calling him in dreams and delusions, but this was real. He was awake, he was not imagining it, this was real. He had called and she had answered him and he would bring her home like he had done the last time and she would be safe with him forever. All of this was real. 

"NO! STOP IT!" she screamed, and he snapped out of whatever trance in which he had been. 

Pushing aside the sheets, he leapt out of bed. His hands curled into fists at his side, "HIKARI! I'M COMING!" 

Suddenly, he was aware of a strange light playing over the surface of the mirror, as if the reflective glass had become water. Instinctively, he ran to the other side of the room to look into it. The image inside was blurred and indistinct, but he could just make out what it was. It was Hikari's face, whiter than he had ever seen it, cuts and new bruises shockingly red against her pale skin. Tears slid down her cheeks. 

Hot anger surged up in him. He would kill whoever had hurt her like that! He would make them pay a hundred times for every single cut and bruise they had inflicted on her! 

"HIKARI!" 

"Please . . ." she whispered, "Come to me." 

"Yes, I'm coming," he replied simply, and fell through light and noise and heat to meet her. . . . 

***

TO BE CONTINUED

***


	20. Interlude 3: Spring's Daughter

_This one is mainly worked out of Ovid's Metamorphoses, but I've included details from my own studies of Classics.  _

_And I had this finished a few weeks ago, but thought people would murder me if I put up an interlude and not the next chapter of the story. _

**A STORM OVER BLOSSOMS**

**INTERLUDE 3: SPRING'S DAUGHTER **

In the green and sunlit glade on the shores of lake Pergus, Persephone, spring's daughter, is picking flowers. Her bare feet are grass-stained and the hem of her robe is brown with dust, but her arms are filled with shining lilies and a crown of purple violets rests on her glossy head, slightly askew. She sings a song that she heard at her mother's knee. 

She is so absorbed in her play that she does not notice Pluto until he is almost upon her. When she hears his footsteps, she starts and turns to face him. He seems out of place in this spring-time field, like a shadow when everything else is sunlight. He wears a robe of funeral black, his skin is maggot-pale, and he smells of rot and the grave. The grass yellows and withers around him. 

Looking into his eyes, she feels something inside her die, although she has no name to give it and no way of telling what it is.

"You are given to be my queen, Persephone," Pluto tells her. 

She stares at him in amazement, "My mother has said nothing of this to me."

"It was your father's doing," Pluto steps forward to seize her by the arm, and rips off her light robe. It falls to the floor with the lilies, and he forces her down on top of it. 

Weeping, the goddess calls out to her mother, but her only reply comes from the swans on the lake. They rise into the sky in broken circles, beating the air with their great, white wings. 


	21. A Metamorphosis

_I know it's been a long time since the last part of this and I am sorry. I've been insanely busy at University. I haven't had time to read 'fic, let alone write it. That, and I've really battled to write this part. I'm still not completely happy with it, but I'm also a little tired of rewriting and rewriting. Basically, I suck at action scenes. ^.^;_

_I am going to do a complete rewrite of this story at some stage, I think, but I want to finish it completely before I do. It actually doesn't have much further to go. I'd say about another 2-3 chapters and then it's done. ^.^ _

_Anyway, all the characters belong to Toei and Akiyoshi Hongo. If they belonged to me, I'd just use them as my personal slaves. "Make me some noodles, Daisuke!" "Do my homework, Jyou!" "Program me a website, Koushirou!" "Provide music, Yamato!" Kekekekeke. So, it's a good thing they don't. _

**A STORM OVER BLOSSOMS**

**CHAPTER 20**

**A METAMORPHOSIS**

"Very soon this will all be over and you will be my queen," Dagomon whispered in Hikari's ear, as his hands fumbled with the ties of her robe. She choked back a scream, knowing that there was no-one to hear her. It would only make him angry, and she did not want him to hurt her any more. Her head throbbed from the blow he had given her the last time she had screamed, while every part of her body was bruised and sore from when she had been thrown against the washstand. Her skin stung where the shards of pottery had cut into her.

Evidently losing patience with the knot, Dagomon ripped open her robe. The thin silk of the garment tore easily, leaving her half-naked and exposed in a single movement. Instinctively, she fought to cover herself, but he grabbed her wrists and pinned her arms to the floor. He bent to press his lips to the hollow of her throat, a gesture that was obscene in its gentleness, "How very beautiful you are, Child of Light. I believe I will enjoy this." 

Hikari began to tremble violently. Innocent as she might have been, she knew what was going to happen next. He would finish undressing her, and then . . . and then . . . . She squeezed her eyes shut against the image, trying to believe that this would all be over soon, that he would take what he wanted from her then let her go. If she could just survive the next few minutes, she would be free from Dagomon forever. It was not much comfort, but she clung to it like a drowning child in the middle of a vast and stormy sea. 

She felt his hand slide up her leg and rest on her thigh. 

"If you relax, you will enjoy this too. This is my doma -" Dagomon broke off with an angry sound, "Impossible." 

Opening her eyes, Hikari saw that a patch of the air was shimmering with rainbow colours, shifting from blue to pink to yellow. It reminded her oddly of the pillar of light that had carried her into the Digital World for the first time. 

Suddenly, a tall, slender boy appeared in the middle of the radiance, dressed somewhat incongruously in a white shirt and a pair of green basketball shorts. On his chest, there was a glowing symbol that could have been a shooting star or a rising sun. As she noticed it, it began to fade. 

"Takeru," she whispered, tears of relief stinging her cut cheeks, "You came." 

***

As the light from the portal faded and Takeru's eyes readjusted to the gloom, he looked around himself in amazement. Somehow, he had ended up in the strange castle that he had seen in his dreams. He recognised the twisted, luminiscent walls; the whisper of waves around him; the taste of salt and rot in the air. Was this the Dark Ocean? Was Hikari here? Had he found her at last? 

It was then that he saw the two figures locked in an embrace in the corner of the room. One was a boy a few years older than him, dressed in a red, silk _kimono. He had dark, glossy hair that fell in waves around his pale face and shadowed his grey eyes. Pinned beneath his body, the other . . . the other was Hikari.  She was naked except for her underwear, and he could see scratches and bruises tracing a roadmap of violence across her skin. Her silk robe lay next to her, torn and soaked pink with bloody water. Rape, the word formed itself in his mind. He was trying to rape her. _

Takeru heard the blood begin to pound in his ears, as a hot and terrifying anger surged up in him. 

"Hikari? Get off her, you bastard!" 

What happened after that was a red blur. One moment, he was standing in the fading light of the portal. The next, he was pulling Dagomon off Hikari and shoving him roughly against the wall.

Baring his teeth in what could have been a smile or a snarl, the boy pushed himself away from the glowing surface and swung a clumsy punch in Takeru's direction. He ducked the blow, before slamming his own fist into Dagomon's face and sending him staggering backwards. He barely noticed the pain that exploded in his knuckles.

"Interesting," Dagomon purred, wiping blood from his nose with a hand. 

"Looks like you're losing," Takeru spat back. 

"We'll see." 

As the words left his lips, he launched himself at Takeru and caught him around the chest. It was all he could do to keep on his feet and get his own arms around Dagomon. The two of them grappled for a moment, but Takeru's fury lent him strength and he hurled him down onto the floor. His head cracked against the hard surface, and he lay motionless as a corpse. Takeru knew that he was just dazed, that he'd be up and fighting soon. It was too much to hope that he had defeated him so easily. 

Shaking, he turned to check on Hikari, "Are you okay? Did he - ?" 

****

"Are you okay? Did he - ? Hika-chan, tell me I got here in time . . . ." 

Looking up at Takeru, Hikari could see herself reflected in miniature in his eyes: a girl in mismatched, blood-stained underwear with scratches and bruises all over her pale body. She wished he would look away from her - she didn't want him to see her like this, any more than she wanted to see her reflection. She felt so ashamed and dirty, as if all the water in all the oceans couldn't wash her clean. 

Dropping her eyes from his, she saw the figure on the floor begin to stir. He lifted a hand to touch his head, and his fingers came away red. Takeru had hurt him, but he had not killed him. A little shiver of fear ran down her spine. If he was not dead, he could still get to her. 

Wrapping her arms around herself, she shook her head, "No . . . n-no, but, T-Takeru-kun, he's . . . Dagomon's still . . ." she took a deep breath to steady herself, "Dagomon's not beaten yet. He's . . . he's waking up."  

"Dagomon?" he sounded puzzled, then his eyes widened in understanding, "Him?" 

"Yes." 

Takeru spun back to face the other boy, his fists balling at his sides, "I should have stopped you three years ago, but it ends tonight." 

Dagomon's mouth curled in amusement and he got back to his feet, slipping slightly on the bloody water that covered the floor. His black hair was plastered to the side of his head, his silk robe was dark and heavy. 

"And you think yourself capable of stopping me? You stupid child, you could not even defeat one of my servants without your pet Patamon." 

"If it's the only way I can keep you from hurting Hikari, I'll kill you." 

As Takeru said the words, Hikari knew he meant them. He was no longer the eight year-old boy who had been unable to pull the trigger, who had turned and fled from the monster. She was both relieved and saddened by that. He would save her, but he would not be the same after it. He would have lost the very thing that made him Takeru - innocence. (1) 

"You might love her, but love will not be enough to save either of you. You serve a different god." 

Takeru looked confused, "A different god? What the hell are you talking about?" 

Dagomon showed his teeth in what could have been a smile, "No matter. You will be killed and I will take her as my bride." 

"Rape her, you mean! I won't let that happen!" 

"You cannot stop me," he said, then murmured a few words in the fluid, oddly obscene language of his kingdom. 

Hikari watched in horror as he began to change. It was almost like watching a butterfly break free of its chrysalis but there was nothing beautiful about it. The boy's skin began to stretch and bulge, and it seemed as if there was something moving beneath it. 

Dagomon's tentacles suddenly burst through, thrusting and twisting to strip away the rest of the skin, until he stood bloody and wet in front of them. Somehow, he had grown in size during his metamorphosis. His head brushed against the ceiling; his arms could have measured the width of the room. He opened his mouth in a snarl, revealing wickedly pointed teeth. 

"Arrogant boy, I am a god and this is my kingdom. You cannot stop me." 

One of his tentacles shot out, wrapping around Takeru's waist and smashing him into the wall. There was the sickening crack of bones breaking. When Dagomon dropped him, he fell limply to the ground, blood dying his hair red. A little blood trickled out of the corner of his mouth. He was breathing, but barely. 

As another tentacle twisted its way towards her, Hikari began to scream. . . . 

*********

TO BE CONTINUED

*********

NOTES:

(1) As I'm sure most of you know, this scene was cut out of the dub. If you don't, the episode with Pinnochimon (Puppetmon) had both him and Takeru with guns. Takeru gets Pinnochimon in his sights, but then doesn't pull the trigger for whatever reason. It seems to be because he just can't hold up a heavy gun. 


	22. Blue Wings

_Given some of the reviews, this chapter has been rewritten quite significantly. I swear I'm worse than Hikari and Takeru combined when it comes to my insane need to please everybody. ^.~ _

_************_

_Anyway, _Digimon_ belongs to Toei and Akiyoshi Hongo. If it belonged to me, I'd have had Midorikawa Hikaru doing Adventure_'s Angemon and not only _Frontier_'s. Of course, I'd also have proceeded to snicker every time Hikari talked to Angemon, just like I do with _Frontier_ Patamon. I swear, _Fushigi Yuugi_ exerts a bad influence on me, as you will see in this chapter. ^.^;__

_And can I plug my site of much Takari-ness? http: // www. kbruce.rcthost.net /reflections. (Take out the spaces.) Go. Be scarred for life by the picture of Betsumon. Be bitter about how little information I can find about either of Takeru's seiyuu. Be disgusted by pictures of Patamon being spat out by Garurumon. Fun for the whole family. ^.~ _

_The final part should be out in a week or two, I hope. _

***********

**A Storm Over Blossoms ******

**Chapter 21**

**Blue Wings**

***********

Tears of pain and fear and anger streaming down her cheeks, Hikari crawled away from Dagomon. After everything they had faced and defeated - after Piedmon and Apocalymon and BelialVandemon and Cherubimon - she couldn't believe that this was how it was all going to end, that there was going to be no last-minute miracle for them. Takeru was dying, and she . . . she . . . 

"NO!" she screamed, as one of Dagomon's tentacles wrapped around her right calf. Snatching up a shard of broken pottery from the floor, she drove it deep into his flesh. Dark blood bubbled up from the wound and Dagomon hissed in pain, but he did not release his grip on her.

"I have you now, my queen." 

Another tentacle curled around her ankle and she kicked feebly at it with her foot, too weak and tired to put up more of a fight. It had no more effect than her makeshift dagger on Dagomon. Slowly, relentlessly, he dragged her across the slippery floor to him.

"A new world begins here, my queen." 

A tentacle caressed her face, and she slapped it away from her. 

"I won't . . . I'll . . . I . . . I'll defeat you."  

"And how will you do that?" Dagomon sounded amused. 

"Kaijin . . . ." 

Almost of its own accord the word rose to Hikari's lips. She did not know where it came from or even what it meant, but it seemed to her as if it had been waiting to be spoken ever since she had arrived in Dagomon's underwater kingdom. The dark god hissed, the coils of his tentacles tightening painfully around her leg, bruising her skin. Hikari was surprised to see he looked afraid, as much as his obscene, squid-like face could be said to have an expression. 

"KAIJIN!" she shouted again in triumph, and the light rushed to fill her.

***********

Lying on the floor and choking on his own blood, Takeru realised that he was dying. 

He had always thought death would hurt, but, despite his broken bones and internal injuries, he felt no pain. Instead, he felt strangely distant from his body, as if he were drifting somewhere above it and looking down at the bloody wreck that it had become. The blood rising in his throat, his lungs desperately gasping after air, his heartbeat slowing, they had nothing to do with him. The body lying on the floor belonged to a stranger, and he was light and free for the first time in his life. 

Hikari's scream brought him back to himself with a shock, making him cry out in agony. He could feel every broken bone, every cut, every injury, but none of them mattered as much as what was happening to Hikari. She was trying to get away from one of Dagomon's tentacles, crawling and scrabbling across the slippery floor. Tears streamed down her cheeks, pink where they mingled with the blood from her cuts. 

"Hikari . . . wait . . . I'll . . . ." 

He tried to pull himself to his knees, but it was more than his broken body could manage and he collapsed back onto the floor. 

"NO!" she screamed. 

He closed his eyes, tears seeping out from beneath his eyelids, blood rising in his throat. After Yamato had saved him from Seadramon, he had promised himself that he would never be helpless again, that he would not be the little boy that everyone had to protect. After six years and a thousand promises, it seemed that he was still no different from the child weeping over feathers in dust. Hikari was going to be raped, and all he could do was cry about it. 

"A new world begins here, my queen," Dagomon hissed. 

"I won't . . . I'll . . . I . . . I'll defeat you."  

Despite the pain of knowing her courage was futile, he felt pride surge within him at that. No matter what had happened to her, Hikari was still the bravest and strongest person he knew. Her brother's sister, she put him to shame. 

"And how will you do that?" 

"KAIJIN!" the shout was triumphant, ringing off the walls of the bed-chamber. 

As the light rushed into Takeru, he screamed in pain. Healing that should have taken months was accomplished in a matter of seconds – bones reknit, wounds resealed, muscles and ligaments repaired themselves  - and it hurt more than he thought possible. 

When it was all over, however, he found that he was in better shape than he had been for a long time. He had been pushing himself too hard, afraid to let himself rest for the thoughts and memories that would rise out of the dark emptiness inside him, and he had paid the price for it. However, the light had healed him completely, restoring him in body and mind. He breathed deeply and even the tainted air of Y'ha-nthlei felt good in his lungs.

Slowly, he got to his feet and turned to check on Hikari. His eyes widened when he saw her. She was floating in the air, haloed by a blue and shimmering radiance. Her face was unnaturally serene and her eyes were empty pools of light. He did not know what she had called out to moments earlier, but it had possessed her. 

"Spawn of the sea, you dare challenge me?" the voice that came from Hikari's lips was not her own. It was the most terrible voice that Takeru had ever heard, rich and deep and utterly without pity. A shiver ran down his spine.

Something that could have been terror passed across Dagomon's squid-like features, "Seiryuu . . . ." 

"I am displeased that you sought to use my chosen child for your vile purposes," Hikari\Seiryuu continued in that same terrible voice, "Yet, I will triumph over you through her. All your careful schemes shall come to nothing, and you soon shall be no more than a name whispered by the sea-breezes as they blow to shore."

Dagomon snarled defiantly, "You would challenge me in my own kingdom? You truly believe you can defeat me and all my followers, Seiryuu?"  

"Yes, I do. All the oceans and all the seas have been my dominion since the dawn of time, and your followers are poor, weak, degraded creatures that crawl on their bellies on the ocean-floor." (1)

"Demon, to me!" he roared in fury, "Help me defeat him!"

Takeru watched in horror as a purple shadow spread across the floor and Demon slipped out of it, a sinister, horned figure in blood-red robes that left only the blue sparks of his eyes visible. He had almost forgotten that they had used Ken's black Digivice to banish Demon to the Dark Ocean. 

His stomach turned at the memory. They had not been able to defeat him two years ago, even with all their forces combined. How could Hikari, or Seiryuu, or whatever else might have taken possession of her hope to defeat him alone?

"You are more of a fool than I thought, Dagomon, if you believe this insect can do more than annoy me," Hikari\Seiryuu's voice was even more terrible in its amusement. She\he raised a small, white hand and a ball of blue energy sped towards Demon. 

The dark Digimon made no move to get out of its way, but sketched an arcane symbol in front of him with a finger. It glowed in the air for a second, then a silvery barrier sprang up between the two of them. Rebounding off it, the _chi hurtled back towards Hikari\Seiryuu. She\he caught it with ease and closed her\his fingers around it to extinguish it._

"Even if you are not the insect I imagined, I shall still crush you."

"If you are not crushed yourself . . . ."

With shocking speed, Dagomon's tentacles snapped out to coil around the shining girl's waist. A contemptuous look on her\his face, Hikari\Seiryuu began to glow even brighter until the white walls of the room shone with reflected glory and Takeru had to shelter his eyes against her\him. The dark god screamed in pain and Takeru could see cracks spread and blisters rise on his skin, but he did not loosen his hold on him\her. 

"Demon, finish him," he hissed, "I cannot hold him forever." 

Obediently, Demon lifted his hand and started tracing another complicated symbol in the air. As he did so, he muttered a cantrip in an ugly and obscene-sounding language. Takeru did not know what it would do to Hikari and the god that possessed her, but he knew he couldn't allow him to finish it, no matter what happened to him. 

Snatching up a long shard of pottery from the ground, he hurled himself at Demon and drove it deeply into his back. The two of them fell to the floor in a tangle of robes and arms and legs. With a snarl of anger and rage, Dagomon pinned the smaller and lighter boy beneath him and reached around to withdraw the shard from his back. It was slick with black blood and Takeru realised in horror that it was eating into the pottery as if it were an acid.         A drop fell on his arm and he gasped at its sting. 

"I know you," Demon said in a low, dangerous voice, "You were one of the children who banished me to this place. It seems like I will get my vengeance for that today." 

Takeru tried to wriggle free, but the Digimon was surprisingly heavy and he could not move his legs. Sitting on top of him, Demon raised up the shard of pottery to stab the boy . . . only to have it blasted to dust by a bolt of blue energy. Hikari\Seiryuu had chosen that moment to break free of Dagomon's grasp - two of his tentacles lay wriggling on the ground, while he roared in agony and clutched at their stumps. She hovered above them both, her face impassive. 

"The Child of the Starlight is mine and you shall release him." 

"After I've killed him," Demon clenched his injured hand into a fist, acidic blood dripping freely down his robes and eating away at them. Through the holes created by it, his maggot-pale skin was visible. It had a faint silver-blue shimmer to it, as if he were not quite a creature of flesh, blood or even data. 

"Child of Starlight, do not be afraid," Hikari\Seiryuu said, "My wings are always over you." 

As she\he shut her\his eyes, the blue shimmer around her\him solidified into the coils of a dragon. It was the most beautiful and profoundly frightening creature that Takeru had ever seen. Its scales glowed like sea-polished sapphires; its mane was the white of sea-foam; while its eyes were as dark and deep as the ocean. 

Roaring, Seiryuu flew at Demon and snatched him up in its talons. It dropped him onto the floor, before blue-white fire erupted from its throat to engulf the dark Digimon. Writhing in agony, clawing at his burning robes, he was helpless before his assault. His dying screams echoed through the chamber, as he winked out of existence. The blue dragon disappeared with him. Turning his head to one side, Takeru was violently sick. 

"You've dealt with my Demon, but I remain," Dagomon hissed. Wiping his mouth on the back of his hand, Takeru slowly lifted his head to see the dark god glaring defiance at Hikari\Seiryuu. Blood streamed freely from the two stumps where his tentacles had been severed, while the others waved wildly about him.

"A broken god worshipped by a degenerate people," she\he replied, "It would be a kindness to kill you now." 

Infuriated beyond thought, Dagomon threw himself at Hikari\Seiryuu, but she drifted  lightly to one side and he crashed headfirst into the wall. He lay dazed for moment, then rolled onto his side and cupped his palms in front of him.  He whispered a few words in a fluid tongue, and a flood of black energy rushed out from them to hide him\her from view. For an awful moment, Takeru thought that she\he had been destroyed, but then saw blue glimmering through the darkness. 

In something like panic, Dagomon threw wave after wave of energy at the god, but all of them washed over her\him as if they had been no more than water. He panted in exhaustion, as Hikari\Seiryuu shone cool and serene above him. 

"I am done playing with you."

 "Mercy . . . Lord Seiryuu . . . I beg your mercy," Dagomon sounded terrified as he backed away from the shining girl. For a moment, Takeru almost pitied him, but then remembered how he must have turned a deaf ear to Hikari's own pleas. 

"I am no Suzaku to be merciful or compassionate," she\he replied, "I am god of war – my wingbeats are wardrums, my flame is the burning of conquered cities, my talons are sword and spear and arrow - and all who oppose me shall be destroyed. Your reign is over, Dagomon." 

She\he raised her\his small, white hands in front of her and blue energy began to gather between them. It was a faint glow at first, but grew brighter and brighter until he could no longer stand to look at its lightning-brilliance. It shot out at Dagomon, but Takeru could not see what happened to him. The light was simply too bright for that. However, his scream seemed to continue forever. 

When it faded away at last, Dagomon had vanished and a strange, sad music rose from the walls around them. Takeru realised that the city was somehow singing a dirge for its master. 

"Child of the Starlight, you have done well," Hikari\Seiryuu turned to Takeru, and fear replaced nausea inside him, "Now, get her home." 

The blue glow faded around Hikari, and she fell to the floor. . . . 

***********

**TO BE CONCLUDED! AT LAST! **

***********

Notes: 

1) Seiryuu is the god of the sea among other things. 


	23. When Morning Comes

Hehe. Once again, this chapter's had a slight, little edit to make it better. Gomen people. I'm really tired and stupid recently. But Alan has given me a brilliant idea for what to do for the next chapter, so . . . thank him for demolishing the writer's block! ^_^  
  
Ack. I know I said this would be the last part of the story, but I'm really battling to write the big Yagami-reunion on which the story ends and don't think it's fair to keep you waiting any longer while I'm bashing through that particular writer's block. So, I hope you don't mind having two shorter chapters rather than one longer one . . . . If you do, the solution is dead simple - just wait until the last one is posted and read them together. ^_~  
  
A STORM OVER BLOSSOMS CHAPTER 22 WHEN MORNING COMES  
  
When she woke, Hikari knew for certain that the previous night had been a dream and she was still in Y'ha-nthlei. She would open her eyes and see the ceiling arching white above her like the ribcage of an enormous monster. Beside her bed, there would be a new kimono in the colours of the sea and a tray with breakfast on it, both set out by Takeru's invisible servants. Her fiancé would soon come to eat with her too, watching her across the table with his unsettling, predatory gaze. She squeezed her eyes tightly shut and curled up into a ball beneath the covers, not wanting to get up and begin another day in the underwater kingdom. . . .  
  
Gradually, however, she became aware of other sounds around her, sounds that were no more part of Y'ha-nthlei than she was. She could hear cars going past in the street, their swish punctuated now and again by the blare of hooters. A bird began its dawn song, repeating its two notes. And nearby her there was the sound of someone sleeping, their breathing rising and falling in a regular rhythm.  
  
Hikari slowly opened one eye, as if whatever had happened to her would be easier to take by stages. A white wall met her gaze, smooth and quite unlike those of Y'ha-nthlei. She sat up in the bed, staring at her surroundings in amazement. Piles of paper and books on the table and chairs. More books and manga lining the walls. A basketball rolled into a corner. A screensaver turning circles on the computer screen. A poster of The Teenage Wolves. A photo of her and . . .  
  
"Takeru . . . I'm in Takeru's room . . . But that means . . . ."  
  
Leaning over the edge of the bed, she saw Takeru sleeping on the floor with a thin blanket thrown over him and his team-jacket for a pillow. His arms were stretched out behind his head, and his one foot stuck out from beneath the covers. He was muttering something to himself about Patamon, but she couldn't make out exactly what it was.  
  
Now that she had a chance to look at him more closely, she was shocked by how much he had changed in the months they had been apart. She had not known that their separation would affect him that badly. Takeru was thinner and somehow harder, with muscles in his arms and shoulders that she did not remember. He reminded her strangely of Yamato the first time she had met him, distant and alone.  
  
Watching him sleep, Hikari felt a strange protectiveness rise within her. She wanted to hold him in her arms and tell him that everything would be okay, because she was home, Dagomon was dead and she would never leave him alone again. She settled for reaching down a hand to brush some stray hair out of his face.  
  
His eyes opened to look at her, and they were as blue and beautiful as ever. She snatched her hand away, heat rising in her cheeks.  
  
"I . . . ."  
  
Sitting up among his bedclothes, Takeru didn't seem to notice her embarrassment. He stared at her in amazement, as if he could not quite believe what he was seeing. His hair was ruffled into little spikes and his one cheek was crisscrossed with lines from the jacket on which he had been sleeping.  
  
"Hikari! You're . . . It wasn't . . . I hoped but . . . ." he stammered, "Hikari! You're back with me!"  
  
"Are you okay?" she asked, feeling slightly awkward beneath his intent gaze, "I mean . . . "  
  
"I'm fine," he sounded dazed, "But I'm the one who should be asking you that question, Hikari-chan."  
  
"I'm . . . ." she trailed off, not knowing what to say to him. It felt so unreal to be sitting in Takeru's cosy, cluttered room and talking about the horrors of Y'ha-nthlei, as if everything had happened to a different Yagami Hikari whom she only dimly knew. It could not have been her who had lain in bed listening for Dagomon's footsteps, who had crawled weeping through the blood and water on the floor, who had watched him burn through blue fire, "I'll be okay. I'm home now."  
  
He stood, "Home! Hikari-chan, we have to phone your family! They'll be so happy to have you back!"  
  
"Takeru," she clutched at his arm and he looked at her in confusion, "Not yet . . . I need . . . Just not yet . . . ."  
  
"What's wrong?" he sat down beside her on the bed.  
  
"I . . . I don't know what I'll say to them, Takeru," she confessed, "If you were my mom and dad, would you believe that . . . that I was kidnapped by a Dark God to be his . . . his . . . ." she broke off, unable to say the word, "Well, would you?"  
  
"Hikari-chan, our parents have seen us sucked into the Digital World by a beam of light," he replied earnestly, "They will believe you. I promise."  
  
"And, even if they do, how . . . how can I tell them about . . . about what Dagomon tried to do to me? They'll think . . ." her voice cracked, "Takeru, they'll think I'm dirty."  
  
All the pain and fear and shame of the previous night came rushing back to her with those words. She could almost feel the touch of Dagomon's hands running up her legs, his lips trailing kisses on her neck, his tentacles wrapping around her ankles. And it no longer felt as if it had happened to another Hikari; it was she who was filthy and could never be clean again. She could scrub off all her skin and his touch would still be on her.  
  
Hot tears rose in her eyes and spilled down her cheeks; her breath came in quick gasping sobs; her heart drummed in her chest. A little awkwardly, Takeru put his arms around her and rubbed her back. She nestled closer to him and buried her head in his t-shirt, breathing in his clean, sweet scent. He smelt like home, like safety, like everything she had thought lost in Y'ha-nthlei.  
  
"No, they won't," the words were a little unsteady and she could tell he was trying to keep from crying too, "They'll think you're the strongest and bravest and best person they know, just like I do. Because they love you as much as . . . ."  
  
She looked up at him in astonishment, a golden smudge through her tears, "You do?"  
  
"I-I do."  
  
"I'm . . . not . . . ." she stuttered, "Takeru, you . . . you saw what he did to me. How . . . can you still . . . ?"  
  
"I also saw what you did to him. . . . I saw how you fought and . . . how you didn't give up and . . . how strong and brave and good you are. You're my hero, Hikari-chan, and I love you."  
  
"Me too," she whispered and rested her head on his chest again. He wrapped his arms around her again and pulled her closer to him, planting a kiss on top of her head, "And . . . thank you."  
  
"For what?"  
  
"For what you said. I'm not sure if I . . . I can believe it yet, but . . . thank you for saying it."  
  
His arms tightened around her, "I'll be here for you. I'll help you believe it, Hikari-chan."  
  
"Takeru-chan, time to wake up," a woman's voice suddenly called from the hallway, "I've brought you some tea."  
  
Before either of them could move away from the other, the door opened and Natsuko appeared in the gap, wrapped in a fuzzy blue dressing-gown and carefully carrying a cup of tea.  
  
"A girl!!!"  
  
The cup fell from her hand, splattering liquid everywhere, and rolled across the carpet. Hikari quickly pulled away from him, realising how they must have looked to his mother. Takeru was still in the boxer shorts that he wore to bed, and she . . . she was only wearing one of his old shirts over her underwear. Colour spread across her cheeks, mostly at the thought that he must have dressed her in it while she was unconscious.  
  
"Takaishi Takeru! Was this why you missed the . . . " Natsuko cut herself short, her eyes widening, "Hikari? But I thought you . . . And Takeru couldn't have faked . . . . Exactly what is going on here, you two?"  
  
Hikari looked at Takeru, silently imploring him to explain what had happened to his mother. She knew she would break down again if she had to speak about what Dagomon had tried to do to her.  
  
"Errr," he began hesitantly, "You know the Digital World, Mom? There's a place in it called the Dark Ocean . . . Well, we think it's part of the Digital World, but it might not be . . . Anyway, Hikari was kidnapped by its king and held captive there for months. Last night, I was able to get to her and I brought her home."  
  
Hikari was grateful that he had left out Dagomon's attempted rape of her in his brief explanation. She knew she would have to tell the others about it some day, but she was not brave enough to do so yet. Even if it had not been her fault and there was surely something more she could have done to resist being pulled into the Dark Ocean, it would change the way the others saw her. They would look at her and they would see his touch on her, polluting her in the same way that oil spread through clean water. And that would be harder than anything she had gone through that night.  
  
Even so, a worried frown had come to Natsuko's forehead during Takeru's explanation, and she was plucking at a loose thread in her dressing gown.  
  
"So it wasn't just the fever that night? It really happened?"  
  
"Yes, it did."s  
  
"And what about this king? Is Hikari safe?"  
  
"Yes, the king is dead . . . ." Takeru replied, rubbing his eyes, "We . . . she . . . dealt with him."  
  
"God. I sometimes wonder if the Digital World will ever leave you children alone or if we'll keep on having to deal with things like this. No parent should have to . . . ." she shook her head dismissively, "But that's beside the point for the moment. The main thing is that you're back and safe, Hikari- chan. We really should get you home as soon as possible. Your family has been so worried about you," she looked at her son, "Takeru, you do have some clothes to lend her, because we can't take her to her family dressed like that?"  
  
"Yes," Takeru nodded, jumping off the bed and going to his closet. He came back with a pair of tracksuit pants and a t-shirt in his arms. The shirt had an Odaiba Junior High crest on it and she realised that he would have started at the new school in her absence. It seemed strange to think that his life had continued without her, that everything had gone on as normal while she had been in Y'ha-nthlei, "They might be a bit big, but they're probably better than what you're wearing."  
  
Hikari felt her cheeks grow warm as she took them from him, "Thank you, Takeru-kun."  
  
"Once you're dressed, I'll drive you to your apartment," Natsuko smiled at her, "And, Hikari, your family is going to be so glad to have you back. . . ."  
  
"I hope so," she replied, unconvinced.  
  
TO BE CONCLUDED! (REALLY!) 


	24. Nocturne

A STORM OVER BLOSSOMS CHAPTER 23 'NOCTURNE'  
  
"You have to eat something, kaa-san," Taichi said in frustration as his mother pushed the scrambled eggs away from her again. She had hardly touched any food since Hikari had gone missing, and had grown painfully thin. Her cheeks were sunken in a face that was fast becoming skeletal and her shoulder bones protruded sharply beneath her silky robe like the stubs of an angel's broken wings. Her wrists were so fragile that he could have snapped them with his bare hands.  
  
"Do I have to feed you? Is that what you want?"  
  
Disgusted by what he was doing but too worried about her to do anything else, he picked up his spoon and dipped it in the mound of egg. He held it out to her, but she knocked it aside with one hand, sending egg splattering across the fridge and cupboards. Taichi threw the spoon at the floor, "FINE! STARVE YOURSELF! JUST LEAVE US LIKE HIKARI DID! BECAUSE THAT'LL REALLY MAKE UP FOR WHAT YOU DID!"  
  
Tears rose in his mother's eyes, and he was instantly ashamed of his outburst. She had only had this breakdown because she blamed herself for Hikari running away from home. She did not need him to add to her guilt. He sat down opposite her again, "I'm sorry, kaa-san. I didn't mean that."  
  
"But it is the truth," she replied in a voice rusty from disuse, "I hate the truth. I wish it would go away and leave me alone with my lies. They keep me safe like guardian angels ranged around my bed. One day, I will learn their names and then they will become the truth . . ."  
  
Taichi sighed, picking up her almost untouched plate and taking it to the sink. His mother could carry on rambling for hours once she got started and he needed to get ready for soccer practice. When he gave her pills to her, she would stop talking and he could help her back to bed. He wished there was more that he could do for her, but she was beyond his help.  
  
"Okay, time for your medicine," he said as cheerfully as he could, taking the bottle of pills off the windowsill and dropping two into a glass. He filled it with water at the sink and then stirred the pills around with his finger until they dissolved. He wasn't sure if they were meant to be taken that way but his mother refused to swallow them whole. He handed the glass to her, "There you go."  
  
She took a small sip from it before hurling it at the wall. It shattered on impact, glass and water exploding outwards. Instinctively, Taichi put up an arm to shelter his eyes, although he was standing nowhere near it. Hot frustration surged in him again, "WHY THE HELL DID YOU DO THAT? WHY DO YOU MAKE EVERYTHING SO DIFFICULT?"  
  
"I . . . I can't tell the lies from the truth when I drink that. The truth might come to me and I might name it and . . . ." she trailed off, looking at her hands in her lap, "I hate the truth . . . ."  
  
"Stay where you are. I'll clean it up," he said resignedly. He couldn't expect logic from his mother in this state, any more than he could stay angry with her. It was like being angry with a lost child who cried and screamed because she could not find her way back home. His mother had gone missing somewhere in her own mind.  
  
He had just fetched a cloth from the cupboard and was mopping up the water when the doorbell rang. He felt his heart begin to pound in his chest. No- one - not even Sora - knew how bad his mother really was. He had kept the truth from his friends, thinking that they would phone social security in a misguided attempt to help him and he would end up being taken away from her too. His mother would never survive losing both her children.  
  
"Kaa-san, you have to go to your room for a bit. There's someone at the door."  
  
"Then I should answer it," she said with a distant smile, standing up and adjusting her flannel robe, "It might be the light. It often comes to visit me in the morning, and we dance together to the music that only we can hear."  
  
"Please, kaa-san . . ." he begged, but she had already shuffled to the front door and was clumsily fiddling with the latch. As Taichi moved to stop her, the latch slid open and the door swung outwards. Nausea rose inside him as he saw Ms Takaishi standing there, looking young and pretty in a blue, sleeveless polo-neck and khaki skirt. Her car keys dangled from a finger. Of all the people it could have been, he thought, she was the worst. He could have explained to Yamato or Takeru why they could not phone social services, but he didn't have a chance of convincing their mother. As Yamato always said, Takaishi Natsuko was the most paranoid, overprotective woman in Japan. He didn't know how he was going to pull this off, but he prayed his mother wouldn't do anything too strange.  
  
Hiruko didn't even seem to notice the other woman, staring past her to a point that Taichi could not see from where he was standing. He wondered if she thought she saw the light that she had been rambling about earlier and desperately hoped that she would not start dancing in the middle of the hallway if that were the case.  
  
"Hikari . . . ." she whispered as she pushed past her, "You're home . . . ."  
  
"Kaa-san, come on!" he said impatiently, going after his mother, "You know perfectly well that Hika . . . ."  
  
The words died in his mouth as he saw the girl in his mother's arms, her head buried in her chest. Both of them were crying. Hikari was thinner and paler than he remembered her, and there were ugly scratches and bruises all the way up her arms. She was dressed in a too-large Odaiba Junior High T- Shirt and a pair of tracksuit pants that bagged down around her ankles. Takeru was standing a little way off from them, a genuine smile on his face for the first time in months.  
  
Worried and overjoyed at the same time, he turned to the younger boy, "Takeru! You found her? What the hell happened to her?"  
  
"It's a long story, Taichi-san, and Hikari really should tell it to you in her own," he replied evasively, "Anyway, it's got a happy ending. That's the most important thing, right?"  
  
"Yeah, that's all that matters," Taichi smiled and went to welcome his little sister home.  
  
********  
  
In the deeps, the maimed god drags himself through the halls of his underwater kingdom, blood marking his slow passage. His face is a charred ruin; the stubs of his tentacles trail limply at either side of him; his legs have been burnt off completely. By all rights, he should be dead. Y'ha- nthlei is already singing his dirge, the sad, low song echoing through the hallways, but that only makes him more determined to survive. Hatred is all that sustains him now, all that keeps the spark of life burning fierce when it should have been extinguished in Seiryuu's attack. He will have his revenge on them, no matter the cost.  
  
After what feels like an age of agony, he comes to his throne room and pulls himself through its great bone-doors. He sees Hydra stir in her pool, alert as always to the scent of blood and death. She lifts up her beautiful head and looks at him with her dark, wondering eyes.  
  
"Mother of the Deeps, you who gave life to the seas and all who swim in them, I ask you to give me new life," his voice is as ruined as his face. The liquid syllables of their language sound harsh and grating to his ears.  
  
"You know the price that you must pay," she replies in her own soft and lilting tones.  
  
"I know the price and I regret it with all my soul, but I will not go into eternal death like this."  
  
She inclines her head in understanding and begins to sing. It is a song that has not been heard since the world began. It is the first ripple of a sleek body through the water; the first splash of a wave against a sandy shore; the first cry of a bird flying high above the ways. Dagomon shuts his eyes as the song vibrates through him, closing his gaping wounds, restoring bone and flesh. When it is finished, Hydra lies still in the water, her eyes closed forever.  
  
Without looking back at her, Dagomon leaves his throne-room. Now that Hydra is gone, Y'ha-nthlei will soon follow. He can already feel its life-force fade around him as it sinks slowly into death. He cannot afford to waste any more time. There is an army to gather and a new kingdom to establish in the deeps.  
  
********  
  
THE END  
  
********  
  
Yatta!  
  
I know some of you thought you would never see those two words. Thank you for all your patience and support. I know some of the recent parts have had their problems, but . . . well, so have I this year. ^_^;  
  
However, to call this the end might be a little deceptive, because I'm going to begin on the rewrite soon. At the moment, I'm thinking less Fushigi Yuugi and more Lovecraft. I just wanted to wrap up this version of it before I started it, because I had a feeling people would kill me if I didn't. ^_^ 


End file.
